


Not a Spare Part

by roygkid



Series: Irreplaceable cogs in this wonderful machine called life [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, BAMF Tony Stark, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku Friendship, Bakugou Katsuki Redemption, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou is shook when he meets Tony, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Humor, M/M, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, Midoriya Izuku Swears A Little, Midoriya Izuku is a Little Shit, Midoriya Izuku's Hair Is Fluffy Because It's Full Of Secrets, Parental Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Tony Stark, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Sassy Midoriya Izuku, Sharing a Body, Supportive Midoriya Inko, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark becomes Izuku, Tony Stark flirts with everyone, because Tony teaches Bakugou how to be a proper person, because he's tony stark, but its okay cuz Tony's going to help him be a hero, more like a mindspace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2020-03-19 17:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18974530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roygkid/pseuds/roygkid
Summary: In one universe, Tony Stark closed his eyes to a world where Superheroes were a rarity.In another universe, Tony Stark opens his eyes to a world where Superheroes are the norm.(An AU where after the events of Endgame, Tony Stark finds himself inhabiting the body of a young quirkless boy named Midoriya Izuku and figures out that the world could use... another Iron Man)-------Basically, Izuku becomes Iron Man.





	1. Close your eyes and wake up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark dies, then he wakes up.

One snap and it’s over.

 

Tony’s eyes burn as a flash of blinding white light snaps into view; more powerful than anything he had ever seen, rivaling that of the sun and Tony has to shield his eyes away to prevent himself from going blind.

 

 _It’s beautiful,_ is what he thinks, as the flash fades away and the infinity stones begin to sing a song that feels ancient and endless all at once; ringing sorrowful bliss into his ears. His body hurts, his mind hurts, his _heart_ —Tony gasps, feeling like he had just been swimming deep underwater and had just finally broken through the surface. Cool air fills his lungs, but it’s hard to breathe and Tony hacks up a terrible round of coughs, steadying himself with a knee bend down to the ground.

 

His right arm is throbbing something _fierce_. 

 

Multi-colored lines of powerful pure energy straight from the infinity stones make their way throughout his whole body, wrecking every cell and vital organs with waves upon waves of radiation and gamma, and Tony can only grit his teeth as the threshold of pain passes to the point that leaves his skin feeling too numb and tingly, and the sharp taste of acid filling his mouth.

 

Still, despite it all, he keeps his head up high, staring straight at Thanos standing before him several feet away. The Titan’s mouth roars with an intense fury that rattles deep inside Tony’s bones, his expression flickering between a wide range of emotions; anger, confusion, fear…and then finally, it settles onto one— _acceptance_. Thanos’s face then goes slack, staring around as thick plumes of black ash swirl ominously around him and Tony tilts his head into a nod, a final farewell to the mad man who had caused him and everyone Tony knew nothing but misery and pain.

 

It’s hurts to even breathe, but Tony opens his mouth, _“I am Iron Man,”_ and watches with great satisfaction as Thanos staggers backwards away from him in disbelief; his once great empire now falling down into nothing but dust. Thanos back steps onto a crumbled-up piece of rock, and then sits upon it as if he was on a throne—a lousy one, and very fitting one, Tony believes. A lousy throne for a pretty lousy king.

 

The mad Titan then heaves a heavy sigh; panting upward towards the sky, at the dark ashes falling upon him like snow, and then lets out one last raspy breath of air before—

 

He too, turns to ash.

 

Tony stays upright just long enough for the last of the black ash to whirl away with the wind, before fully collapsing downwards to the ground, a long, well-deserving but aching sigh escaping his lips. His eyes grow dim, blurry to the point that everything around him looks faded and diluted and leans his head to rest upon a scrap of metal thorn from one of the many ships Thanos had used against their final fight.

 

_It’s over. It’s finally over._

 

That’s all Tony could tell himself, feeling his conscious slipping in and out. He’s tethering down the line between dream and reality and he’s not sure what’s real and what’s simply an illusion, a dream—a sudden thought comes creeping into his mind: _Is this just an illusion? Did Thanos actually win, instead?_

 

The last words Dr. Strange had said to him before fading into dust five years ago was a simple, “-- _There was no other way_.” Back then Tony had no idea what the man had meant, simply too shocked watching him and several others disappear right before his very own eyes. It haunted him, those last remaining words, leaving Tony wide awake during those long nights when he had nothing to think of but his past failures. Out of the 14 billion alternative realities that possible existed, there was only _one_ in which the final fight against Thanos would happen in their favor.

 

Was this the one?

 

Cheers of victory and joy erupt somewhere in the distance, people no doubt celebrating winning a fight that seemed impossible, almost unwinnable, and the unsettling tension that had curled inside his body begins to ease away as he coughs out a sigh of relief. _Yes, this was the one._ His mouth struggles to form a smile, and he settles to close his eyes almost halfway shut, mind blissfully blank as he stares off into the distance at the sun making its way across the horizon line, forming a dazzling sunset of orange and pink rays.

 

His eyes are nearly closed shut when Tony feels something cool and metallic cradle his cheek gently.

 

Tony opens his eyes, blinking as a figure blurs into view.

 

Oh.

 

Rhodey’s here; staring down at Tony with a soft expression adorn on his tear-stained face. Something hot and wet prickles the corners of Tony’s own eyes and he wants to say something; a cheeky comment to his best friend about somebody cutting up onions around them but the words die on the tip of his tongue, and Tony swallows them back with a shaky gasp of air. _It’s hurts. Everything hurts._

 

Rhodey’s mouth moves, but the words are too fuzzy and low for Tony to hear over the sound of his own heart thumping loudly against his chest. He stares blankly at his best friend, watching Rhodey’s expression grow increasingly fret with worry and concern.

 

Footsteps comes pounding from somewhere behind Rhodey, and someone pops into view; messy brown hair, and equally shocking brown, large eyes peer right down at him and Tony has to blink several times to fully comprehend on what exactly he was seeing. _Peter._

 

Sure enough, it was the young boy, rapidly saying something too fast for Tony’s ears to catch and bending down to press his hands against the several bleeding wounds that littered across Tony’s chest. Peter’s eyes flickered frantically between Tony and Rhodey, before settling to fully look at Tony’s face. There’s several cuts and a black bruise decorating Peter’s face, but other than that, the boy looked mostly unscathed from the battle, and most _importantly_ —

 

He was alive.

 

 _Peter_ —Tony finally lets the tears building in his eyes to free-fall down his cheeks. _He’s alive_ , is all he could repeat inside his head. _Five years._ Five freaking years Tony had spent, not knowing whether or not he would ever see the boy again. Five years of waking up every night to the same nightmare of watching the bright, cheerful boy, who would have someday been his protégé, crumble into dust as he whispered _, “I don’t feel so good, Mr. Stark,”_ in his last dying breath.

 

Five years, he waited for this chance to apologize, to wrap his arms around the boy and never let go.

 

And he can’t do much as to even breathe.

 

Tony’s vision blurs from his tears; it’s all too much to bear.

 

Peter stops for a moment, moving a hand passed up brunt pieces of flesh and settling it firmly down onto Tony’s shoulder. There’s a heavy weight of relief, pain and regret emanating from the boy’s body, and Tony could feel it all the way down to the fingertips resting on his shoulder.

 

“We…won,” Peter chokes out, breathing rapidly as he stares straight into Tony’s eyes. His lips then quiver when he gets no response back. “Mr. Stark, we won. You did it. We won.” He repeats the last sentence over and over again, as if saying anything less would make what they were witnessing unreal, a dream that no one wants to wake up from.

 

But it _is_ real; the warm, familiar weight of Peter’s hand on top of his shoulder is enough proof to Tony that this really did happen. That they did, in fact, win.

 

Still, the words can’t escape his mouth, and he stares on in silent, feeling his body grow wearier and more worn out as the seconds tick on.

 

Another person approaches his view; blue and white streaks of armor reflecting some of the sunset’s rays into Tony’s eyes and Tony squints, wincing slightly at the jolt of pain that suddenly cuts through his chest. The figure comes to stand before him, gently pushing Peter into the waiting arms of Rhodey’s before wrapping their own warm, long arms around Tony.

 

Strands of strawberry-blonde hair and a whiff of Paprika overwhelms Tony’s senses for a moment, and he blinks rapidly to gather his bearing. _Pepper_ , his mind registers for him, and a flood of forgotten memories and past experiences comes streaming back into his mind. Of their honeymoon, of their wedding day, of the birth of their child— _Morgan_ , of a promise to live a simple, peaceful life and Tony can’t help but let out a quiet sob.

 

_Pepper._

 

God, he wishes so badly to tell her sorry he is for leaving her. For leaving Morgan. For leaving _them_.

 

More tears leave his eyes and he tries desperately to open up his mouth, to say anything, but only silence remains, and an ugly burst of frustration starts to bubble up inside him only to dissipate into wisps when soft fingers tenderly wipe away his tears.

 

He looks up to find Pepper smiling, one so bright that it overpowers the sunset behind them, and Tony can’t look away from something so beautiful and radiant. She cradles his head upon her chest and gently brushes loose clumps of hair away from his face.

 

“Hey,” she whispers into his ears, and it’s like they were back inside their log cabin; laughing to each over a bottle of expensive red wine while their daughter slept upstairs.

 

Tony’s lips curve a bit at the thought, and he croaks out a, “…Hey…Pepper…” out from his mouth before going into a fit of painful, lung-hacking rounds of coughs. Pain whacks his body with every gasp of air, and its takes him a long moment before he can breathe again.

 

Pepper is beside him, humming to him gently as she rubs his back through the worst of the pain. She leans him back against her chest again, before reaching downwards to lightly touch the arc reactor on top of Tony’s chest. The arc glows a sickly, greenish-blue hue that makes the skin around it look pale and white. It hums a low, broken tune as Pepper cups it into her hand. Her eyes flutter shut.

 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

 

Silence greets her for a moment, before F.R.I.D.A.Y’s electronic voice chirps out from somewhere deep inside Tony’s helmet. “Life function is critical.”

 

A wretched, sorrowful cry comes off from somewhere nearby, and Rhodey tightens his hold onto Peter who had now buried his head onto the other man’s shoulder. Rhodey’s face glistens bright with tears as he watches what is unfolding right in front of him with a solemn expression; his lips pulled downwards into a frown, but his eyes filled with nothing but fondness when he meets Tony’s eyes.

 

A sigh, and Pepper simply nods her head, swallowing down whatever cry threaten to escape her throat before opening up her eyes. She looks so much older and tired than Tony had ever seen her look before, but she looks down at him not with sorrow, but of determination and peaceful acceptance as she lets go of the reactor and slides her hand back to cradle Tony’s jaw. Right where it belongs, and Tony can feel the waterworks start to set off and blinks his eyes to stop them from pouring out.

 

“You were amazing, Tony,” she coos softly, pressing her lips onto his forehead and the rich scent of Paprika sends happy signals into Tony’s brain and he buries himself more onto her chest; feeling drained beyond relied to even move an inch more.

 

She laughs, wiping away a stray tear away from the corner of her eye, before thumbing his jaw. A warm smile adorns her beautiful face as she looks deep into his eyes. “We’re going to be okay, Tony,” she tells him, and she says it like a fact, no questions or arguments asked, and Tony can’t say anything but gurgle out a sound that he hopes translates to, ‘ _I know_.’

 

The smile grew wider on her face, and Tony knew his message was received.

 

She tightens her hold onto him, rocking him back and forth as a lullaby leaves her lips. He remembers that song; it’s the same one Pepper sang to Morgan the night after she was born, and it was late in the night and barely anybody around on their section of the hospital. Pepper had tucked herself underneath the hospital window, rocking side to side in a chair with Morgan cradled in her arms. One song and Morgan went from brawling her eyes out to gurgling a happy tune as she stared up at her mother as if Pepper was her entire world. And Tony would watch from his seat by the bed; a fond, loopy grin on his face as he watched his two-favorite people in the world lovingly interact with each other.

 

 It made his heart sang, and he can feel his eyes growing weary as the tune reaches his eardrums.

 

“You can rest now,” he hears Pepper say and it as if something clicks inside his brain and everything becomes crystal-clear. Tony realizes in a way, that that was what he needed to hear. That his family will be okay, that everything will be fine.

 

_They’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay._

 

He feels at ease, his conscious slipping away as everything finally stops hurting. _Everything’s going to be alright_ , Tony repeats to himself as his eyelids grow heavy. _Just alright._

 

Maybe…he should rest his eyes for just a little moment. A tiny, teensy, little moment. Then he’d wake up back in his log cabin, on his nice comfy bed with his daughter’s smiling face above him, and she’d asked him to play Superhero with her again at her dollhouse.

 

And he would do just that. Play for as ever long as she wants and build her as many costumes and items she needs.

 

All for little 3000.

 

 

 

_“I love you 3000,” Tony said softly as he kissed his daughter goodnight. She turned to him with a tired, small grin as she rested her head upon a pillow._

_“I love you 4000 more, daddy,” she said quietly back, and Tony’s lips curved at her words._

_He dimmed the lights as he headed towards the door, stopping briefly for a moment to look back at his daughter, a soft, fond expression on his face._

_Tomorrow, he’ll build her an Iron Man mask she could claim as her own._

_For now, though, he closed the door shut and let his daughter sleep sweet dreams of robots and dollies._

 

 

 

Tony closes his eyes with a smile on his face.

 

 

 

Something’s buzzing near his ears. It’s loud, annoying and— _god-_ _dammit_ , can’t he get a moment to rest his eyes for just a bit?

 

Tony groans, blindly swatting at the general direction where the buzzing noise is coming from. His hand brushes against something small and solid, and it vibrates against his palm. He hits it and the object clatters down onto the ground with a bang, effectively cutting off the irritating buzz.

 

Sighing at the now peaceful silence, Tony snuggles himself deeper into a duvet of warm blankets and fluffy bed-sheets.

 

Warm.

 

Soft.

 

Not hard, like the ground…

 

His eyes twitch, and Tony moves his hands around to feel nothing but soft, fluffy blankets and bed-sheets. _A bed?_ He asks himself; tentatively opening up one eye to confirm his suspicion.

 

He instantly regrets it though, as a stream of bright sunlight hits his eye and he closes it back to prevent himself from going temporarily blind. Once the flashes of light fades away, he opens both eyes and finds himself in a bedroom.

 

For a brief, hopeful moment, Tony almost believed he was back at his cabin, but as his eyes begin to adjust to his surroundings, his hope dissipates once he realizes that wasn’t the case.

 

He was in a bedroom alright. But one filled with a bookshelf stacked with children toys and books, and a low desk that looked like it could barely reach Tony’s hips. The room was messy, with more toys and papers scattered across the floor and amongst them, Tony could spot a plastic baseball bat and a little dinosaur figure that reminded him much of Godzilla.

 

Portraits of a muscular man sporting a rather large grin peered down and all-around Tony at every angle as he takes in the numerous posters taped everywhere onto the bedroom walls. The man looked almost demented, smiling like that, Tony muses quietly to himself; staring in particular at the two ridiculous strands of yellow hair that stick upwards from the man’s head. _Kind of like a bunny, a demented bunny._ Tony shudders at the thought, and pointedly avoids the other man’s unblinking gaze at him.

 

It’s a bit hard to do that, when every square inch of the walls and ceiling are plastered with that man’s face though, and Tony bites his lips.  He figures its best to get out of bed and figure exactly what the heck is going on in here.

 

He carefully navigates his way through the toy-covered floor and finally reaches the desk. To his surprise, the desk actually reaches his height, and Tony blinks, confused; he was quite certain that the desk was tiny and wouldn’t reach his body. And yet…

 

His lips pull down to a thoughtful frown, and his eyes wonder over to a bookshelf tucked between a closed door and a large box filled with miscellaneous items. He heads over there, nearly stepping on a piece of Lego. The bookshelf was tall, much taller than Tony had anticipated. He couldn’t even reach the top shelf, not even when he stands on his tippy toes.

 

Tony’s frown deepens. _Just what is going on?_

 

He randomly selects a book from the middle shelf, the only section he can actually reach without stretching, and it’s a children’s book if the cartoonish-like pictures of a boy and a dog on the cover is anything to go by. Tony’s eyes then widens as he looks at the tittle.

 

It’s not in English.

 

Squiggly characters stare back at him, and it takes him an embarrassingly long moment to figure out what on earth he was looking at. And when it does, it hits him.

 

 _Japanese_.

 

And somehow, he could understand and read the title.

 

He drops the book to the floor in shock, backing away from it till he reaches the very edge of the desk. His eyes grow wide like saucers and he searches desperately for any clue, any reason as to why everything that could go wrong, _did_ go wrong.

 

Tony spies a small mirror half-hidden between a stack of notebooks and folders. He reaches out for it, slowly, with beads of sweat forming at the top of his temple. Gingerly he holds the mirror up to his face, and his stomach drops dangerously low as he peers down at it.

 

This wasn’t his face.

 

Large eyes, as green as an evergreen forest, blinks back at him. Equally green eyebrows rest above it, and on his scalp was a curly nest of shockingly, bright green hair, almost to the point of looking like a bird-nest had taken residue on top his head. He couldn’t see any resemblance of his once brown, short spiky hair, and Tony lifts up a hand to brush a loose strand dangling by his forehead. It’s surprisingly soft to touch, and he can curl it around his fingers. Much, much different than what he could have previously done before.

 

He lets go, watching with morbid curiosity as the strand curls and sticks in its new form, and then move his hand away to touch at his face. It’s smooth, too smooth and not marred by decades worth of stress, worry, and a terrible lack of a sleeping schedule. It’s almost baby-like, sleek to his touch and not a speck of hair upon it. Black freckles lightly dust each cheek, and he rubs at his chin, sadness and fury bubbling inside his chest as Tony mourns the loss of a beard, one he had spent over a decade perfecting into a stylish shape.

 

Nothing.

 

Nothing that was him—that _used_ to resemble him, he can’t see them.

 

It was gone. Vanished and replaced by some strange entity’s face. A face that looks too young, almost like a child…almost like---

 

 _Morgan_.

 

Pain erupts inside his head; memories of a past over-saturated with battles, tears and terrible losses of a not so distant past spring into view. He can see them all at once, too many flashes by him in a blur for him to even take note and Tony groans, bending down to the floor with his head clutched between his hands.

 

 _Morgan_.

 

The name is familiar, and taste light and sweet on his tongue as he whispers it. Along with it comes other names: Pepper. Rhodey. Peter. Many more come and go.

 

They pop and fade alongside the memories and form a cacophony of sounds and bright colors that mesh all together to form one word; _Iron Man._

 

Tony blinks, feeling the wave of nausea settle inside his stomach and vision clearing to hyper-focus view.

 

He remembers. Everything. He remembers them all.

 

But now, there are new memories that come into view; new, strange ones that Tony has never seen before. There’s a young, plump woman smiling down at him; her long green hair pulled up into a ponytail as she pats his head. There’s a laughing boy, with eyes as red as amber pointing at him…and then a man, tall and lean, and face obscured with smoke that was somehow emanating straight out from his mouth and was now slowly reaching out a hand towards him—

 

His head spins and Tony braces himself for another round of head-splitting headaches.

 

Eventually, it passes, and after taking a mouthful of needed air into his lungs, Tony stands up on shaky, thin legs.

 

He looks back at the mirror, discarded on the floor during his nausea, and picks it back up again. Green eyes stare back, and Tony blinks. The eyes blink in time with him.

 

This isn’t him, that Tony knows for sure. But somehow against all the odds, against the very fabric of reality, time and even death, he’s somehow still _alive_.

 

And he’s going to do whatever it takes to find out why.

 

He had faced terrible things before in his lifetime after-all; man-killer robots, aliens, and even a space tyrant were just several he can name off on a long list of things he had seen and experienced. _This?_

 

Tony smiles, the mirror reflecting back at him an unsettling view of the person smiling. It doesn’t fit his face, stretching the cheeks wide to the point he almost resembles the grinning man on the poster, but Tony doesn’t care.

 

Because _this_ was nothing.

 

_I’m Iron Man._

 

He gets to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw the Endgame and this story came to mind. 
> 
> Can you imagine Izuku with an iron man suit? 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment on how you've felt cuz' I love reading them, and thanks for dropping by!  
> \---------  
> *I rewrote the chapter to make it flow better and correct a bunch of grammatical mistakes, please let me know how you guys like it! Thanks.~*


	2. I'm awake, now what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries to figure out what to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Update here.
> 
> I know most of you will be wondering where the other chapters have went, but after much deliberation, I decided it was best to condense them together and had deleted them to start over again. I redid the first chapter, so please check that as well, and I re-wrote this second chapter to speed the plot up along. I do apologize for deleting the chapters and if you want a copy of the previous chapters just let me know and I can find a way to send them to you. 
> 
> But otherwise, enjoy this re-write of the second chapter and let me know what you guys think! 
> 
> (Also thank you guys so much for the kudos, I can't believe we reached past a thousand already!?!) 
> 
> Feel free to write a comment cuz' I love reading them and thanks again for reading!
> 
> (◕▽◕✿)
> 
> \------

He starts by cleaning up the bedroom.

 

Around his feet lay numerous toys and books strewn and toss about across the floor, almost like a tornado had just entered the room and the items were the unfortunate victims lying in it’s path. Tony can spot amongst the debris, a box toppled over with brightly colored Lego blocks spilling out from it in clumps, and nearby, a set of mini figurines were partially buried underneath a collapsed portion of a half-built castle of books.

 

Tony shakes his head, taking in the sight. The bedroom is messy, that’s for certain, and if he’s going to find any answers as to why he’s here (and still _alive_ ), he might as well begin with the bedroom first.

 

“ _A clean room equates a clean mind,”_ someone had once said to him, and Tony’s not sure who exactly it was that had told him that; the memory seemingly so far in the past and the person’s face unrecognizable in his mind, but he agrees, nonetheless, and bends down to pick up several of the items nearest him.

 

Daylight had broken through the curtains of his windows as he had worked, light and barely there, but by the time Tony had put away the last of the remaining toys into a box, the sunlight was strong enough to brighten up the room and Tony had to squint his eyes to adjust.

 

He takes a careful sweeping gaze of the room, pleased with his task and that he could now see the wood panels hidden beneath all that junk. The room feels airier, and he can actually breathe without feeling so suffocated. Tension oozes out from his mind to fade away into the morning rays as Tony continues to look around. Of course, he still has to fix the bed, and the desk is cluttered beyond relief with papers, books, and too many figurines to count, but for now—Tony breathes in the cool, clean air. For now, this is enough.

 

His eyes land onto another shoddily taped poster of that strange, muscular looking bunny man with a face stretched out wide to reveal pearly white teeth that looked too perfect to be real. The man beams down at Tony from it’s odd angle high up on the wall, almost as if in approval for a job well done, and Tony snorts to himself at the silly notion.

 

He’ll have to take those posters down when he gets more acquainted with his new situation; Tony’s not sure if he can handle sleeping with so many smiling faces staring down at him in every angle in the room. He’s pretty certain he’s going to be dreaming of creepy-looking men in bunny costumes for _weeks_.

 

Shuddering at the image, Tony turns his attention to the bed and figures he can at least fix it before tackling the cluttered desk. His stomach suddenly grumbles out in annoyance at the thought of doing anything else without food; startling Tony for a moment before frowning. _When was the last he had eaten?_

 

He can’t remember. He was too busy worrying about time-travel shenanigans and all the possible things that could go wrong with bringing back the infinity stones from the past to even worry about something as trivial as _breakfast_.

 

_If J.A.R.V.I.S was here, he would have told me—_

 

Tony instantly stops that line of thought from going any further inside his head; but it’s a second too late as, he already feels hot tears prickle the corners of his eyes and he stubbornly wipes them away. He then closes his eyes and inhales through his nose. _J.A.R.V.I.S isn’t here_ , he reminds himself, ignoring the horrible cocktail of guilt and regret that wreaks havoc inside his stomach, sending it flip-flopping down into his legs. Tony swallows, opening his eyes.

 

 _Jarvis—no, Vision, isn’t here,_ Tony repeats in his mind; he’s dead— _gone_ and never coming back.

 

It’s a hard pill to take; one Tony had time to chew on for five long years after learning about the death of his oldest, closest companion. Peter’s death, unexpected that it was, was akin to having a steak knife jammed straight into his back and knowing about Jarvis’s death weeks later after being lost in deep space, was simply having someone twist that knife in more then pull it out without a care.

 

It had left him empty, feeling numb beyond what Tony could handle. He had built Jarvis with his own two hands, lovingly named him after a kind and caring butler, and even watched as the mind stone had given Jarvis a corporal form to call his own. And Thanos took that all away with a snap of his fingers.

 

Tony exhales a heavy, tired sigh; his muscles suddenly aching from all that cleaning—or maybe it’s by something else, something that happened a long time ago and yet felt like it had just happened yesterday morning. He cracks his shoulders with a twist of his arms, wincing as he hears his bones snap at the motion.

 

Then Tony inhales again and holds it to the count of three, and exhales with the words, _“I’m Iron Man_ ,” in his breath. The words float up into the air, and he lets himself have just one more moment of inner mourning before nodding; brows set firmly upon his eyes, and determination etched into his face.

 

 _Right_ , he thinks, _I can’t wallow in misery just yet._

 

He has more pressing matters to attend too.

 

His stomach grumbles again, louder this time, as if to remind Tony of what those pressing matters should be. _Right, I should find some food._

 

He eyes the bedroom door with trepid apprehension; it’s looks relatively normal enough with cartoon stickers of cats and dogs placed randomly all over the wood. It’s what’s _beyond_ the door that Tony’s worried about.

 

He’s not sure how long he had been cleaning the room, but he hadn’t heard so much as a peep outside his room since he started. For all that he knows, there could somebody waiting outside—someone potentially _dangerous_ and Tony debates whether or not to take the risk and find out.

 

Another gurgle from his stomach accompanied by a sharp hunger pang makes the choice pretty clear.

 

Tony squares up his shoulders, ready to take on anything that comes barreling his way and takes long, confident strides towards the door. He stops momentarily to grab the plastic baseball bat he had left propped up against the bookshelf and reaches out a hand to grip the door handle tight. He counts to three, sweat beginning to precipitate on his forehead, and yanks it open.

 

A narrow dark hallway greets him. Tony’s eyes quickly adjust to the lack of light and he finds several closed doors lining each of the walls beside him. Though his ears pick up no sound, Tony keeps a steady grip on the bat, slowly taking a step forward. The floor creaks under his foot, but nothing happens. So far, so good.

 

He continues at a snail pace down the hallway, pausing whenever he thinks he hears a sound. He stops briefly at a door, this one surprisingly not closed, and takes a second to peek inside. It’s dark, the curtains drawn shut to prevent any sunlight from coming through, but Tony can vaguely make out a room.

 

It appears to be someone’s bedroom. A small bed tucked far into the corner alongside a drawer with a vanity mirror propped up on top of it. There’s a human-shaped figure underneath the bed-cover and the soft sounds of snoring echoes across the room from the bed.

 

He can’t tell if there’s more than one-person lying-in bed, but at least Tony knows now that he’s not exactly alone in this place. Still, he’d rather not wake them up just yet, so he carefully and quietly shuts the door. He continues making his way down the hall, past several more closed doors before finding himself standing inside a sun-lit kitchen.

 

An open window above the kitchen sink was left slightly ajar, bringing in a crisp scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, and the sound of chirping birds soaring from somewhere in the distance. It’s feels cozy inside here despite the relatively cramp space, and Tony can’t help but breathe in comfort at the sight, loosening his grip on the bat. His stomach chooses that moment, however, to remind him yet again as to why he is here, and Tony makes a beeline straight to the fridge.

 

He feels bad taking food from some stranger he doesn’t know, let alone in their own house too to boot, and Tony’s frowning when he opens the fridge door. A cool breeze skirt across his skin, and Tony takes in the various food items stockpiled onto the fridge shelves. He spots a ton of veggies wrapped inside plastic bags, and tiny containers of yogurt mixed with fruits, and even jars filled with what looked to be pickled cabbages swimming in a red sauce. His stomach growls out in delight at the options and Tony bites the edge of his lips.

 

He can’t just up and eat everything he sees in the fridge just because his stomach wants to; he’ll need to eat something small, something that won’t also involve any cooking as Tony’s an absolute disaster when it comes to anything that revolves around a stove. His eyes land onto a cartoon of milk with a cute picture of a winking blue cow and Tony reaches up to grab it from the top shelf. He rolls it around his hand, checking the expiration date and even giving it a good sniff too for safety measures.

 

_Can’t go wrong with cereal…_

 

With that, he shuts the fridge close and heads over to the kitchen cabinets. He realizes with a growing, frustrated scowl that he’s too short to reach the top cabinets and prays that he can find everything he needs in the bottom ones. A quick minute search and Tony procures a spoon and a bowl. Now all that’s left is the cereal, and he ends up finding it perched up above the fridge.

 

Sighing, Tony grabs a stool, sliding it gently across the kitchen tile. It takes him a few more moments to figure out how to keep the stool stable without letting it topple over underneath his body, but he manages to reach the top without any incidents and pulls the box into his hands.

 

Tony blinks as he looks at the cereal box— _oh for crying out loud!_

The smiling bunny man is back, this time with his huge stupid face encompassing most of the box art with large blocky Japanese lining the sides. Tony squints his eyes as he reads the words.

 

“All…Might…” he murmurs, testing every syllable as his mind relays the words back in his English. _All Might_. A somewhat interesting and peculiar name for somebody who looked like they eat steroids for breakfast, lunch, _and_ dinner.

 

All Might.

 

His vision goes blurry all of a sudden, and Tony practically kneels low on the stool as he feels a wave of nausea crash down on him hard sending his stomach somersaulting in his body. He feels hot and cold at the same time, and his head throbbed with the force of a thousand hammers striking it all at once and Tony has to shut his eyes tight to bear through all that sheer pain. Something clutters to the floor near him, but it sounds so far away and muffled through a buzzing sound that begins to ring inside his ears.

 

He can’t breathe. The pain. It’s too much—

 

A memory swirls into view, the edges of it faded like a washed-out photograph. Tony sees a video; static images showing a tall, burly man with two prongs of yellow hair sticking straight up and bright similar to a beacon shone through a cloudy sky. The man— _All Might_ , a voice whispers into Tony ears, was carrying over a dozen people over his back as he traversed a pile of collapsed burning buildings, but the man doesn’t seem bothered by the heavy weight and even pauses for a moment to grin and raise a thumbs-up sign.

 

_“Have no fear, for I… am here!”_

 

There’s a surge of energy rushing through his body as Tony hears the words, causing him to quiver in excitement and his heart pumping a happy beat. He feels _elated_ ; like he’s just won a marathon and was standing at the edge of a cliff to scream in joy.

 

But then the feeling dissipates quickly as it comes, and he’s nothing more than a cold and empty shell now with clampy skin and all Tony could do was watch as the video freezes just before the man looks away and someone’s arms are suddenly wrapping around him tight. Tony blinks, tilting his head to see who it was.

 

It’s a woman; with green hair pulled up into a messy bun, and rosy cheeks dotted with freckles. Tears pooled in her eyes as she buried her head onto his, mumbling out a series of undecipherable words and a _“I’m so sorry, sweetie, I’m so sorry…”_

 

And Tony doesn’t understand what’s she sorry about, but he knows that it somehow relates to him and he can’t stop the tears from falling down his own eyes.

 

Then the memory fades into dust and his vision starts to clear up and Tony inhales mouthfuls of needed fresh air; feeling his heartbeat settle into a steady pace. His breathing, _hard_ , and Tony keeps his eyes close for just a little moment longer before opening them back up again with a gasp.

 

In front of him, two dark green eyes blink back at him and Tony’s mind stutters to a crashing, booming stop.

 

He blinks, then blinks several more times for good measure.

 

But the person staring back at him hasn’t faded into mist just like the memories have done and their lips were now pulling downward into a growing frown with wrinkles creasing their forehead and Tony stares blankly as they lift up a hand to brush away the loose strands of hair sticking to his forehead.

 

“Is… everything alright, sweetie?” The person asks quietly, and it takes Tony an embarrassingly long moment to reply as his mind tries desperately to figure out who this person speaking to him was. Then it clicks.

 

It’s the woman, the same one that he had just seen in his memory, but she’s older now, with tired bags underneath her eyes and a face plump and tan. But the eyes were the same, warm and bright with love, and Tony can’t help but be reminded of another person who had stared back at him with such adoration.

 

His vision is getting blurry again, his eyes feeling hot and wet and he can’t stop himself from curling in with a sob.

 

He hears a sharp gasp, and he’s suddenly pulled into a warm embrace that smells strong of sweet honeydew and a heavy scent of vanilla. The woman’s rubbing his back, hushing him gently and Tony buries himself deeper into her arms.

 

He closes his eyes. If he thinks hard enough, believes down deep enough, he can almost— _almost_ , catch a faint whiff of Paprika.

 

_I miss you._


	3. Hi, nice to meet you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony meets a woman...and a young boy too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Update here!
> 
> Thanks guys so much for the comments and kudos for the previous chapters. I'm happy knowing many of you like the re-write and felt that the story had a better flow overall. This is all still very new to me, and I'm taking my time in writing a story that had just randomly appeared in my head and I really appreciate that so many of you like it.
> 
> I do want to clarify something though, this is a Tony-fic. Izuku is there, but not always _there_ if you get what I mean?
> 
> I want to let you guys know that this is more of a Tony exploring the world of BNHA and becoming Iron Man while being inside Izuku's body. Strange (I know!), but everything will make sense eventually as the story continues.
> 
> For now though, please enjoy this new chapter and feel free to leave a comment as I always love reading them.
> 
> （＾－＾）
> 
> \----------

It takes him five minutes to calm down.

 

By the time the last tear has been shed, there was a large pile of snot-covered tissues lying on the floor by his feet and his eyes felt too dry and irritated from using so much of the itchy material. Tony rubbed at his nose, sniffling as his breathing became stable enough that the need to breathe didn’t come alongside with a helping of crippling terror and Tony exhaled out in sheer relief with eyes shut closed.

 

When he opens them back up, Tony meets a sea of dark green eyes staring back at him.

 

Oh. The _woman_.

 

He had almost forgotten there was someone else in the kitchen to witness his embarrassing breakdown and Tony can feel his cheeks flush hard from the realization. It had been a very, _very_ long time since he had last cried like that.

 

Not since he was back in the comfort of his own home after being lost for a week in deep space, crying hard under the shower as the scene of Peter crumbling into nothing but fine dust replayed in an infinite loop in his mind…

 

His vision is getting blurry again, and Tony tries to stifle a sob from escaping his mouth. He feels strong arms embrace around him tight, rubbing small circles onto his back and the woman is shushing him gently, her lips almost brushing past the tips of his ears.

 

It has a strange, almost smoothing effect on him, and it takes him less than a minute to get his breathing back to normal. He sniffles again, feeling his nose stuffy and the woman pulls back away from to grab a bunch of tissue from a tissue box near her side. She gently wipes his eyes, and Tony avoids her gaze as she works, mulishly looking down at the floor.

 

 _Her hands are warm_ , Tony realizes as he feels her fingers graze his cheeks, and he catches a whiff of honeydew and vanilla that makes him want to close his eyes and sleep for an _eternity_. But the moment soon ends, and the woman leans away, leaving Tony to involuntary shiver from the sudden loss of touch and he brings his gaze back up at her.

 

She’s smiling, faintly, but the traces of it crinkles her lips upwards and makes the green hue in her irises shine bright and Tony is taking aback for a long, embarrassing second as he stares. _Wow, she’s quite beautiful…_

 

The woman then cups both his cheeks together with her hands, tilting his head up slightly more towards her and Tony can almost count the individual freckles that dot all across her face like constellations seen upon a clear, night sky.

 

“It’s okay, Izuku,” the woman tells him after silently studying his face for a quiet moment and somewhere residing deep inside the back of Tony’s head prickles sharply when he hears that name. It’s sounds… _familiar_ , and yet _foreign_ at the same time; leaving his mind whip-lashing as a wave of conflicting emotions begins to bubble up inside his chest. The woman trails off in the middle of her sentence, her eyes leaving his to look at something far off to the side, and her expression gradually shifts into one of solemn acceptance that eerily reminds Tony of Pepper during his final last moment, and he nervously shoves that particular memory to the back of his mind as he waits.

 

There’s a heavy pause up in the air, and eventually the woman opens her mouth to continue with eyes still looking off to the side. “I know something’s bothering you right now…”  and she doesn’t delve more into the specifics, but Tony’s mind is already whirling with different possible scenarios as to _what exactly it is_. And he’s praying hard that she did not just somehow figure out that he’s a 50-year-old man from another world who had died and woke up to find himself inhabiting some kid’s body and—

 

A hand suddenly reaching up to pinch his nose and all thoughts inside Tony’s head cease to exist at the very precious moment.

 

He blinks, slowly. First at the hand upon his nose and then up at the woman; her smile becoming fuller and radiant with sweet tenderness and Tony has to avert his eyes away from the sheer intensity of it all. He feels warm around his cheeks and he’s certain that the tips of ears are beginning to flush a bright red hue, and he forces his gaze onto the rather large wet stain on the woman’s T-shirt. Tony cringes internally at the realization that he had probably caused that. The woman seems to have noticed his discomfort, and chuckles at it before bopping his nose with a finger.

 

“I just want you to know, sweetie, that I’ll always be there for you no matter what and…” she pauses, and Tony takes a chance to look back up, watching as her facial expression takes on a wistful look, with tears pooling in the corners of eyes. “And…whenever you need to talk…” She meets his eyes and throws him a wink that’s meant to be reassuring, but it leaves Tony feeling breathless; his breathe caught at the cusp of his throat and his brain sputtering into a crashing booming standstill.

 

“I’ll be right here, waiting.”

 

Tony swallows a large gulp, cheeks reddening to resemble that of a freshly picked tomato, and he’s lost for words on how to reply. He doesn’t know this woman, this stranger who just appeared in his (new) life and who had seen him in a terrible, embarrassing moment and instead of mocking him—like his father would have done and Tony’s stomach twist uncomfortably at the memory—the woman simply comfort him and tells him that he’s love and…

_“You can rest now, Tony.”_

 

…It has been a while hasn’t it? Since somebody had last told him something like that. Pepper… was the last one.

 

It’s impossible. Tony was certain he had no more tears to shed, but here he was crying up another fresh wave of tears and he quickly buried himself deep onto the woman’s chest; eliciting a surprised gasp from her. He doesn’t know the woman, this lovely, sweet stranger.

 

But he wants to.

 

He can’t say anything, but weakly nod his head as he burrows his head and feels strands of the woman’s hair tickle his cheeks. He hopes that she understands what he’s trying to say: _Thank you._

 

The warm hands that wrap around his body, snuggling him tightly and squeezing ever so gently, let’s Tony know his message was received, loud and clear.

 

 

 

Tony takes one look at the bathroom mirror and grimace at his reflection.

 

His eyes are pretty much bloodshot and puffy, with faint traces of tear-stains trailing down from the corners and onto his cheeks. His nose twitches every now and then and Tony spots a piece of booger hanging precariously at the edge of it.

 

And his hair…

 

Tony is one hundred percent absolutely _certain_ that he’s growing a rain-forest on top of his head instead of actually hair.

 

He stares at the baby face blinking back at him in the mirror; with cheeks puffed up with freckles doting all over and green eyes too large and filled with a sort of innocence that has long been lost in him decades ago, and Tony suddenly slumps his shoulders down in defeat.

 

_I look like shit._

 

His clothes feel sticky and wet too, and he begins shedding them off piece by piece to pile them up into a small heap on the tiled bathroom floor. He looks down at his arms, milky-white and skinny with little muscle definition and even more tiny freckles and Tony frowns.

 

 _I’m a kid again_ , he realizes.

 

It’s jarring to find himself so young again. To not hear his bones creak whenever he so much as takes a step forward. To not have to be reminded constantly to take his medications after eating a meal. He doesn’t have to worry anymore about the possibilities of getting liver cancer or the growing fear of losing his mind whenever it takes him longer than a minute to recall simple things.

 

He’s _young_ again. He can start all over anew and not make the same, _stupid_ mistakes that had plagued him for the better part of his whole life. But…

 

Tony looks back at the face staring at him in the mirror.

 

This isn’t his own body. This isn’t him.

 

 _Izuku_ , he whispers, and the name taste sweet like he just took a bite out of a ripe green apple. It’s strange, and odd and leaves Tony wondering just _who_ that boy is.

 

Or was.

 

He shakes his head, making a mental note to reflect on that particular issue later when he has a moment to himself. For now, he takes in his surroundings, eyeing the shower and tiny stool propped up under it, and the large tub bath beside it. He reaches up to grab one of the bottles of body wash occupying a corner of the window still and takes an experimental whiff and catches a nose-full of tangy citrus and lemon drops that makes his nose wrinkle _. Too strong._

 

He tries another bottle, this one filled with a sort of light-green liquid that sparkles under the sunlight, and he sniffs. It smells heavenly of honeydew and sweet melon and Tony smiles. _The woman smells just like this_ ; he muses with a lopsided grin growing wide on his face.

 

A nice and comforting type of scent that makes his shoulder relax with ease and Tony takes the bottle with him as he sits under the shower. He fumbles for several minutes with the knobs and only succeeds in getting lukewarm water on his face. But he doesn’t mind and drenches himself from head to toe with the body wash.

 

By the time he’s done, every square inch of his skin smells sweet like honeydew and he feels loads better after scrubbing his body clean. He turns the shower off, shivering as a gust of cool air from the half-open window brushes past his skin and he grabs a random towel of a hanger and wraps it around himself. He takes the discarded pile of his clothes off the floor and makes his way out the door and into a hallway permeated with the delicious smell of cooked bacon and scrambled eggs. His stomach growls out in appreciation and Tony hurries down the hall to his room.

 

He pointedly ignores the smiling faces that adorn every poster in the room and heads to a drawer. Shuffling through several oddly bright colored articles Tony finally settles on a plain white t-shirt and black shorts. He scrubs his hair as much as he can with the towel before discarding it onto a corner. He takes another look at the small mirror by his desk and tries to smile, it’s still a bit unnatural looking on such a young face but Tony looks ten times better than what he did before. That’s an improvement.

 

He steps out his room and lets the inviting smell of home-cooked breakfast guide him back to the kitchen. There, the woman stands by a stove, stirring something in a pot with a concentrated look upon her face and mumbling something fast as she stirs. It’s an adorable scene to witness and Tony slowly makes his way over to her as to not distract the woman. She doesn’t even notice his approach until he standing directly beside her, and when she takes a moment to glance around for something, her eyes land onto him and she jumps up with a startled yelp.

 

 _“Izuku!”_ she half-yells, half-squeaks, as she places a hand onto her chest. “Sweetie! You nearly scared me!”

 

Tony offers her a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that…” He turns his attention to the pot boiling in the background and stands up on his tippy toes to find a clear brownish liquid filled with what looks to be herbs, scallions and huge chunks of tofu swirling inside. “That smells really good.” He can almost taste the rich flavors drifting up from the pot, and Tony’s mouth waters in an instant.

 

The woman inhales deeply to catch her breath before gracing Tony with a smile that makes him feel fuzzy and tingly at the same time. “Thank you, sweetie,” she tells him before scooting him away from the stove. “Breakfast is almost ready. Do you mind grabbing the plates?” She gestures over to a set of plates resting on the counter with food already placed on top of them. “Just set them down and I’ll get the rest.”

 

Tony gives her a two-finger salute with a toothy grin on his lips. “Sure thing.”

 

He carefully picks up each plate into his hands, and its only when he turns around to look for a table to place them is when he finally notice that there’s another doorway across the kitchen leading out to somewhere, he hasn’t explored just yet. The woman had gone back to looking over the pot and Tony makes his way past the doorway.

 

He finds himself inside a quaint living room; the windows propped open to allow breeze and sunlight to enter and making the room bright and airy. A large couch is placed in-front of a television and besides it, are two tall bookshelves cluttered with miscellaneous items, photo-frames, and figurines. There’s a homely feel to the room that makes Tony want to take his time looking all around, soaking in every item he can see and find.

 

There’s a table set next to a pair of windows overlooking a balcony and that’s where he placed the plates, making sure each one is arrange properly in front of a chair. He hesitant a few seconds more, taking a quick glance around the room before making his way back into the kitchen. He gets there just in time to watch a pepper shaker mysteriously levitate off from somewhere on the counter and land straight into the woman’s hand.

 

Tony blinks. Then blinks several times more to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

 

_Was that a magic trick?_

 

He wasn’t a stranger to witnessing strange and often downright bizarre things due in part to working with a team of super-powered humans that ranged from a literal god to a person who can shrink to the size of an ant. But it was unusual to see it happen out here in the open and from a stranger no less who Tony’s certain showed no signs as to being a mutant.

 

He frowns thoughtfully as he meets the woman.

 

She beams down at him as pours the liquid from the pot into two bowls, a rich smell wafting up in smokes and hitting Tony’s nose. “Breakfast is ready,” she says, and then pauses, studying Tony’s expression with a tilt of her head. “Is everything alright, sweetie?”

 

That jars Tony out from his thoughts, and he shakes his head, giving the woman an easy-going smile. “Nah,” and his eyes flicker over to where the pepper shaker lies not moving on the counter next to the woman.

 

“Just thought I saw something strange.”

 

The woman continues studying him, dark green eyes holding his gaze with such an intense look of curiosity that Tony averts his eyes away for fear that she might see something that could give himself away. He looks down onto the floor, takes a deep breath, goes over the words he had churning inside his head during his bath one last time and blurts out, “I’m sorry.”

 

The woman blinks, startled. She slowly puts down the spoon and wipes her fingers onto a nearby towel hanging on a drawer handle. “Sorry? For what, sweetie?”

 

 _For everything_ , Tony wants to say. But he swallows them down and squares up shoulders to get ready for the words about to spill out from his mouth.

 

“For this morning,” he tells her. “For brawling my eyes out and making you worried so much.”

 

“ _Oh sweetie_ ,” Tony hears her whisper softly underneath her breath. There’s a shift of movement, and the woman’s suddenly crouching down to him, her eyes reaching up to meet his eyes and Tony can’t look away. She reaches out a hand to cup his cheek, her palm pleasantly warm against his skin. “Don’t apologize for that, Izuku. It’s okay to cry.”

 

Tony sniffles, trying to keep his eyes from blinking because he know that if he does, then he’s going to start the _waterworks_ again. He breathes in, taking in the woman’s honeydew scent and wipes away a stray tear with his hand.

 

“I know.” Tony says weakly. “I, uhm… just didn’t want to make you feel disappointed that I was feeling sad.”

 

He tries hard not to think of another person’s disappointed gaze on him; a man much older than Tony, with a set of gray hair and steely brown eyes staring straight down at him with mild discontent.

 

_“I raised you better than that, boy…”_

 

Tony shakes his head. _No, not right now._ Those memories are going to stay locked tight deep inside his mind.

The woman smiles, faint and soft against her lips and moves her thumb to brush his cheek in short swift motions. “As long as you’re aiming to become happy and feeling better, Izuku, then I will _never_ be disappointed of you.”

 

His breath hitches up to an embarrassing degree and Tony nods, words alluding him at the moment. He exhales a shaky but much needed breath and suddenly jots out his hand, nearly smacking it onto the woman’s face.

 

The woman shifts her gaze down at his hand, sticking out in the shape of a handshake. She then meets his eyes again, a questioning expression on her face.

 

“I…was wondering…” Tony starts, stumbling over his next words. “If we can start from the top?”

 

He lifts his hand up more to line with the woman’s eyes. “I’m—,” _Tony_ , he almost slips out, but corrects himself in time. “Izuku.” The name weighs heavy on his tongue and reminds him of tasting the first raindrops that appears during the start of a light Spring shower against a sunny, clear day.

 

Tony swallows them, feeling his breathing ease up slightly. He continues, “And you are…” and waits for the woman to responds.

 

That intense curious look is back on the woman’s face as she stares up at him, but instead of looking away like last time, he stares back, keeping his gaze steady against the ferocity of emerald eyes that seem to peer down deep into his very soul.

 

For a long, tense moment, the woman is quiet and then, her smiles brightens, and Tony sees her the crinkles of her eyelids slanting upwards as she reaches out to take his hand.

 

“Mom,” she says, gently shaking it.

 

Tony nods, feeling the air becoming lighter and clearer all around him, and can’t help but let a small, sly smirk appear on his lips.

 

“Just mom?,” he asks coyly, “Nothing else?” The grip on his hand gets just a little bit _tighter_ , and the woman raises up an eyebrow in warning. Tony holds up his other hand in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Mom it is.”

 

Tony shifts his smirk to a friendly grin. “So, Mom,” Tony says, and he ignores the way his heart flutters at the word. “Lovely morning we’re having, uh?”

 

That draws a light chuckle out from her and a pinch on his cheek from her hand. She stands back up, ruffling up Tony’s hair a bit before letting go. “Quite. Let’s go have breakfast now, shall we, sweetie?”

 

Tony opens his mouth to reply, but his stomach answers for him.

 

Though his cheeks turned red in embarrassment, Tony didn’t seem to quite mind if it meant hearing the woman laugh even more.

 

 

 

Later, after a very delicious meal of omelet, rice, and what turned out to be miso soup, Tony finds the fooditus kicking in _hard_ and lets out a yawn.

 

The woman laughs, a sort of bubbly one that reminds Tony of wind-chimes swaying against a pleasant breeze. She reaches across the table to pinch his nose. “Why don’t you take a nap, sweetie?” she says, “I’ll clean things up.”

 

Tony tries protesting to that, but another yawn strikes him fast and he bends his head down with a blush, listening to the woman laugh again, louder this time. He mumbles out a quick 'thank you' and jumps off the chair, taking a glance to see the woman directing a bright smile back at him, and feels his face burn up as he hurries through the door.

 

She’s right though, and Tony finds his eyes dropping slightly as he walked down the hallway; yawns peppering out his mouth, and by the time he makes it to the bed, his eyes are nearly shut close.

 

He tucks himself underneath a canopy of fluffy, warm blankets and close his eyes to dream of a sun-kissed forest and wind-chimes ringing in the distance.

 

Not a moment later, though, that Tony finds someone nudging him over the covers and he groans out loud in response. The nudging stops and Tony almost sighs in relief before it continues again, this time with a shove accompanying it.

 

Tony’s brows furrows in frustration and he grits his teeth. “Can you not? I’m trying to sleep over here.”

 

The nudging stops temporarily, and he hears the bed creak with someone leaning over his side. Small hands poke his cheek, and a voice huffs loudly in his ears.

 

“But you’re in _my_ bed!” the voice cries out. And it sounds tiny, and childlike and—

 

Tony opens his eyes in an instant and they widen in shock.

 

He’s not in the bedroom anymore.

 

No. All around him he can see stars; bright yellow, red and blue stars that beam colorfully as far as the eye can see and he’s floating on a bed of nebula clouds; their faint pink wisps swirling against his head and stretching out in space. It’s _beautiful_ , much more beautiful than the ones he had seen back when he was lost in deep space, and Tony's mouth hangs wide open, memorized by what he sees.

 

It takes him a long minute to realize he’s not alone, when he feels the mattress sink downwards as somebody comes up beside him and he turns, ready to attack only to come face to face with a pair of light-green eyes blinking up at him.

 

It’s a boy. With messy green hair, and too many freckles doting his cheeks and eyes doe-like and too large upon a chubby face. The boy is staring back at him too, his expression halfway between surprised and awed and Tony has to blink several times to make sure this wasn’t a mirage.

 

Then, it dawns on to Tony _who_ exactly he was looking at.

 

“Wait…you’re… _Izuku_?” Tony asks and the name seems to ring a thousand hums across the outer space and the stars seem to brighten up just a little bit more in his eyes.

 

The boy gasp, then smiles; one so dazzling that it out-beats any of the stars shining before them. “And you’re…” the boy answers back in a whisper, and his eyes actually _sparkle_ with joy and unshed tears.

 

“You’re… _Iron Man_.”


	4. Remind me of somebody I use to know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony can see the resemblance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Update here!
> 
> It's a pretty short chapter, but I figured you guys might like. Thanks so much for the comments and kudos!
> 
> I'm curious as to how my writing has been to you guys. It is alright and readable? Let me know!
> 
> And feel free to comment, cuz' I always love reading them!
> 
> （＾O＾）  
> \-------------

Izuku is _quite_ the chatterbox.

 

It takes all of Tony’s patience to just sit and listen as Izuku jumps up and down on the bed; mouth rapidly moving a mile a minute to fire a million questions and more about Iron Man and how cool it is to meet him that Tony’s surprise his brain is able to play catch up with the amount of words being tossed his way.

 

His head spins with all the complex Japanese words he has to digest and regurgitate back in English and Tony pinches the bridge of his nose as the young boy continues chatting away without a care.

 

_Not even Peter was this bad…_

 

The thought sends his stomach churning uncomfortably. Memories of a bumbling red-face Peter starts to dreg up deep from within the depths of his mind and it leaves Tony feeling uneasy as the images form.

 

Peter was certainly a mess when Tony had first introduced himself to the boy and he can never forget those large brown eyes growing infinitely wider and a face half-stuck between awe and sheer disbelief as the young boy sputters out his full name to him with an amused Aunt May silently watching in the background.

 

The fanboying only got worst once Peter became an official member of the Avengers and if Tony closes his eyes right now, he could perfectly picture Rhodey’s exasperated yet fond face whenever Peter would ramble on about outdated pop culture references he thought the team wouldn’t get.

 

_“--You know that part, in the Empire Strikes Back, with the walker thingies?”_

 

Tony’s heart pangs sharply at the memories, long-past and yet still fresh on his mind. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to talk to Peter before snapping his fingers and the realization of never getting that second chance sends a heavy wave of sadness crashing down on him; numbing his body to the point that even the brightest stars before him seem so dreary and dim.

 

It’s only when he feels a small hand resting on top of his shoulder does Tony snap out from his gloomy state. He blinks, then looks down to find Izuku kneeling besides him, a worried frown on his lips. The boy stares at him for a long moment, before opening his mouth.

 

“Mr. Stark?” he ask, and Tony feels his heart contort in on itself; _Peter_ called him that. “Did I say something bad?”

 

The boy’s eyes glisten underneath the starlight, with tears already threatening to come out from the corners and Tony sighs, not being able to bring himself to lie to the young boy.

 

“No, kid,” Tony mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face. He feels tired, like he’s still awake despite being asleep, and it makes his brain fry at the thought of how that was even _possible_ , and Tony leans his head back against the headboard. At this angle he can see the beauty of outer space spread out in front of him; the pitch-blackness of deep space broken apart by tiny yellow, burning stars and pink fluffy nebula clouds. It’s breath-taking, and he takes a moment to appreciate the view before turning his attention back onto the young boy.

 

Izuku is surprisingly silent, expression thoughtful as he settles himself down more on the bed, waiting for Tony to continue. It makes Tony’s lip curve a bit, and he reaches out a hand to ruffle the boy’s hair.

 

“You know you talk a lot, kid?” Izuku pouts at this, whether because of the comment or having his hair getting ruffled Tony doesn’t know, but the boy remains quiet. Green eyes blink back at him with curiosity and Tony pulls his hand away to comb through his own hair, barely registering the familiar short spiky hair he used to sport.

 

“Look,” Tony says, after a moment of heavy silence, “you just remind me of someone, that’s all, kid.” He doesn’t want to say Peter’s name out loud, fearing that saying it would bring a whole new wave of emotions that he would rather not deal with right now. Or _ever_.

 

Izuku hums, pressing his lips together in a thoughtful manner that looks adorable on such a chubby face. “A…good person?” the boy ask quietly.

 

Tony inhales sharply, feeling as if he’s been kicked hard in the stomach and his vision grows blurry at that exact moment. Peter was _more_ than a good person. He was someone who didn’t hesitate one second when it comes to saving another’s life and he loved as fierce and loving as he could to anybody he had ever meet.

 

Tony looks down at the boy, sees eyes wide and bright and can’t help but overlap the image of Peter’s face onto Izuku’s. He can almost _, almost_ see the resemblance.

 

Somehow, his cheeks feel wet now.

 

“Yeah, kid,” Tony chokes out after exhaling a shaky breath through his nose. “He wasn’t just great. He was _amazing_.”

 

The boy smiles at that, and it’s the same smile that Peter would often wear whenever he was praised by the team for a particularly great job and couldn't help but soak in the goodness.

 

It sends Tony’s heart crashing down to his stomach as he stares, and he quickly averts his eyes away.

 

The depths of outer space looks infinite before his very eyes, and while it had scared him before during his long week stuck in the Milano with a dwindling food and oxygen supply and a grouchy Nebula as company, it doesn’t seem so scary now. Not with the bright stars shimmering upon them, sending rays of yellow light dancing down his face and filling his mind with a sense of inner peace. He breathes in and out, taking the time to soak in everything he sees.

 

The bed shifts, and Izuku appears by his side. He wrings the edge of his t-shirt nervously, but he looks at Tony with a mixture of hopefulness and growing eagerness in his eyes. Tony turns his head at him, wondering what the boy had in mind, and Izuku takes that as a cue to speak, bouncing a little on the mattress.

 

“May I please give you a hug, Mr. Stark?” he ask, and rambles on before Tony can say a word. “My mommy said giving people hugs makes them happy, and whenever I’m sad my mommy hugs me a lot, and it makes _me_ happy.” Izuku then trails off, perhaps embarrassed by his question giving the light pink hue that is slowly spreading across his cheeks and the boy looks down at his lap.

 

Tony’s eyes softens, and he reaches out his hand back to ruffle the boy’s unruly green hair. “It’s fine kid,” Tony says, and he feels the boy’s head shift underneath his palm. “I don’t mind hu—.”

 

He doesn’t get to finish his words before a small green blur launches itself onto his chest. Izuku wraps tiny, skinny arms around him, and rest his head upon the crook of Tony’s shoulder. He smells distinctly of baby lotion and green tea and the curls of his hair tickles Tony’s nose and mouth, but Tony wraps an arm around the boy, pulling him close.

 

They don’t say a word for a long moment, and then, “Mr. Stark.” Izuku’s voice comes through muffled near Tony’s ears and Tony grunts, adjusting the boy’s position on his chest. He angles his head to the side and meets green eyes shining bright and a toothy grin on the boy’s face.

 

“I wanna be as awesome as that person.”

 

Tony’s lips twitch at the words, and he looks away with a nod, staring at the beauty of outer space around them.

 

“I’m sure you will, kid.”

 

They stay like this for a long time, and when Tony closes his eyes and opens them again, he’s back in the bedroom; the sunset rays slowly creeping past his window and the bed sheets engulfing parts of his body.

 

He sighs, kicking back the covers and planting his feet down on the floor. It’s cool beneath the soles of his feet and Tony relishes in the sensation as pieces of the dream sluggishly fade away from his mind and into the sunset light. He frowns thoughtfully; _was it really just a dream?_

 

He can still faintly smell green tea around him, and he shakes his head. Probably not.

 

Still, that leaves a lot of unanswered questions for him to find the answers for. He chews his lips at the thought and takes his leave out the room. The hallway’s lit now, fluorescent bulbs from the ceiling beaming down on his skin and leaving them tinge in a sickly yellow light. Tony squints, his eyes adjusting from the sudden brightness.

 

There’s a door left slightly ajar to his right and he peers inside to find what looks to be a study room. It’s small, with several tall bookshelves taking up most of the space but tucked in a corner to Tony’s surprise, is a desk computer.

 

He turns the light on, blinking a bit as he takes in the view; the room is tidy, and seems barely used. Multicolored stickers decorate the edges of the computer screen and the comfortable desk chair looks well-worn down. He sits down on the chair, and something in the back of his mind tugs gently at the action.

 

Something about this place seems… _familiar_.

 

_“Can I be…a hero too?”_

 

The words of a crying boy whispers softly inside his ears and Tony chews on his lips, wondering what it could mean.

 

He looks at the computer screen, then nods his head, fingers cracking in anticipation for what’s to come. He’s not sure where exactly he is, but he can at least find out through the Internet.

 

Hopefully…he likes what he finds.


	5. Kids say the darndest things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really do be like that sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Update here!
> 
> Here's another chapter for you guys, hope you all enjoy it. 
> 
> BNHA season 4 is here, finally! So excited, the Overhaul arc is _so_ good. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for the Kudos and comments, feel free to leave a comment as I always love reading them. 
> 
> (◕ᴗ◕✿)  
>   
> *I redid the chapter to make it flow better, please let me know how better it reads now! Thanks!*  
> \-----------------

Tony had expected many things when he went on the Internet. Weird, odd things that might possibly explain his strange situation as to why he’s another person.

 

What he _hadn’t_ expected, was to sit on his butt all night long watching All Might videos.

 

One click on some random file he had come across during his search on the computer, and Tony was suddenly bombarded with a short clip of All Might, dressed in an impressively striking blue, red and white outfit punching a burglar _sky-high_ straight into the atmosphere. Tony’s mouth was down to the floor as he had watched the burglar become nothing more but a speck of light fading off in the distance, and All Might turning around to face the camera; pearly white teeth shinning bright as he raised a thumbs-up.

 

 _“Have no fear, for I am here!”_ the man’s cheery voice rang loud out from the speakers, and Tony was hooked.

 

He had found more videos, over a hundred and counting, and clicked on _every_ single one of them. Tony had gaped as he watched All Might fought against men twice his size without breaking a sweat and had cheered when All Might had rescued civilians from a burning, tall building, and had even _cried_ when All Might had comforted a victim from a terrible earthquake disaster.

 

As the hours grew, Tony had begun to feel his hands _twitch_ a furious beat. Felt a growing hunger to _write_ , his mind spinning wild with ideas, and Tony had searched around the desk to find something that could appease his insatiable appetite.

 

A stack of white note cards tucked inside a drawer beneath the desk provided just what he had needed.

 

He had scribbled furiously on those cards, writing messy notes as he had observed a new video, one where All Might was squaring off against a trio of rowdy, burly men. Tony had hummed as he wrote, taking a special interest in the way All Might’s outfit had bended in a certain way as the man had punched one of his foes straight into a wall. Or the way the cape around All Might’s neck had snapped wildly in the wind as the man moved faster than the speed of sound to target the next foe.

 

All of these little, bitsy, itsy things that seemed to had hinder the strange, powerful bunny man as he fought, that in Tony’s best opinion, could had been improved on. Or even better, _enhanced_.

 

More clicks, and Tony had felt as if he was Alice from Alice in Wonderland; stumbling down into a very long and deep hole all thanks to a strange bunny.

 

Each clip highlighted the best part of these All Might person. With his golden hair glistening like gold underneath the sunlight as he defeated enemies with a stupid, large grin plastered on his face. Bright blue eyes shinning as he address to the screen, _“Have no fear, for I am here!”_ And it was the stupidest catchphrase Tony had ever heard of, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop watching.

 

Everything about this man screamed ‘action hero’ and Tony had couldn’t help but wonder of another blonde man, that was equally annoying but as every heroic as All Might and Tony had to cut that particular thought short before his eyes got all blurry and wet.

 

He had clicked on more videos to get rid of the gloomy, irritating thoughts, and settled back into his chair as he got sucked into a world where handsome heroes with perfect teeth saved the day and the world was perfectly fine.

 

 

 

He was just finishing up a video where All Might fought against a _dinosaur_ out of all things when Tony heard a soft voice calling out for him from somewhere down the hallway.

 

 _“Izuku?”_ Tony hears, and footsteps quickly approaching the door behind him. It opens, and a flood of obnoxious yellow light pours out into the room, temporarily blinding him. Tony lets out a hiss, squinting his eyes shut.

 

“Sweetie, it’s getting late.” Tony opens his eyes, adjusting to the sudden brightness and finds the woman standing in front of him; a small frown on her rosy face and hands placed squarely upon her hips.

 

 “Sweetie?” she says again when he doesn’t respond back. Her eyebrows slant downwards as she waits, and Tony averts his eyes, feeling a rush of shame coming over him.

 

“Sorry…” he mumbles out.

 

A soft sigh reaches his ears, and the woman bends down to meet Tony’s eye level; her frown now replaced with a small, gentle smile. “It’s alright, sweetie,” she says as she reaches over to cup his cheek. The weight now a familiar presence in Tony’s mind. “It’s just getting late, that’s all. Don’t forget you have school tomorrow.”

 

She pauses, dark green eyes flickering over to the computer screen, right where Tony had paused the video just as All Might was about to say his silly catch phrase. The woman’s lips twist slightly, and an odd expression flickers briefly past her face before she turns her attention back onto Tony. “I know you love All Might…” she says, and her voice falters a bit before she shakes her head. “But it’s past nine pm, you should start getting some sleep sweetie.” The woman then pats his head, ruffling up his curls more.

 

Tony blinks from the unexpected touch, his mind quietly taking in the new information he had just witnessed from the woman. Something about All Might had triggered a strange reaction out from her, and that worried Tony straight to the core.

 

He wonders what it could be, and he _wants_ to asks her, but settles instead to reaching out and circling his arms around the woman’s neck.

 

“Sorry, mom.” He whispers beside her ear; pointedly ignoring the flip-flop sensation of his heart whenever he says that word, ‘mom’. He inhales the sweet scent of freshly picked honeydew and burrows his head more onto her shoulder. “I’ll go to bed.”

 

He gives her one more squeeze before pulling back, revealing a red-faced woman and tears pooling by the corners of her eyes. She sniffles loudly, before quickly wiping away the tears. “Of course,” and then stands up, smoothing out the wrinkles on her shirt. “I’ll put your dinner away then, for tomorrow. Maybe you can pack it to school for lunch?”

 

Tony nods, now feeling the heavy weight of sleep resting on his shoulders, causing him to yawn out loud. “Night, Mom.”

 

She nods back, a faint smile on her lips. “Night, Izuku.”

 

Tony then makes his way down the dark hall and back into his room, the evening rays from a half-crescent moon peeking out through the curtains of his windows. It’s dark inside his room, but somehow his feet miraculously guides him undisturbed to his bed. Tony flops down, burrowing himself deep inside a coven of blankets and pillows.

 

He’s asleep in seconds.

 

 

 

Someone’s nudging his cheek now, and Tony groans, pushing away the nosy fingers from his face. A giggle brushes past his ears, and the nudging intensifies.

 

“Mr. Stark wake up!” a childish voice calls out, and Tony jolts his eyes wide open, instantly regretting it a moment later when strong beams of sunlight hits his face forcing him to close his eyes back with a grimace.  

 

The light ting of another giggle mixes in with the booming sound of crashing waves from somewhere close by, and Tony knits his eyes in confusion.

 

The last he had slept; he was somewhere deep in outer space. Where on Earth could he be now?

 

Tony takes a chance and opens up his eyes.

 

He’s on a beach.

 

White sand glistening bright with tiny specks of pebbles and seashells stretches out for miles before his very eyes, accompanying a deep blue and crystal-clear ocean with small waves nipping by his feet. The beginning of a sunset was just forming off in the distance, sending a flurry of pink and orange clouds to spread far across a light-blue sky.

 

Tony stirs, vaguely registering sand on top of his body, and sits up a bit to get a better view of the sunset. He inhales deeply, and a heavy scent of salt and wet seaweed intoxicate his senses. He doesn’t get a chance though, to appreciate everything, when someone pokes his arm harshly, forcing Tony to tear his eyes away from the beautiful scenery and look down at a grinning Izuku sitting besides him.

 

The boy begins shoving a mound of sand onto Tony’s body; a pile of brightly colored buckets and shovels laying next to his feet. Tony narrows his eyes, taking in the large pile of sand already on top of his body, and scowls.

 

“Kid, are you trying to bury me?”

 

The boy stops, innocently batting up his eyelashes at Tony before grabbing a bucket.

 

“ _Maybe_ ,” Izuku teases and then starts the beginning of a sandcastle right on top of Tony’s chest. “Anyway, isn’t All Might so cool?”

 

Tony raises up an eyebrow, watching Izuku create a sandcastle using him as a base, and can’t help but be slightly impressed with the boy’s cheekiness _. Cheeky brat_ , Tony thinks, and a fond, small smile makes its way onto his face.

 

Still he gets up, dislodging most of the sand off him and causing Izuku to pout as his sandcastle becomes ruined.

 

“Hey!”

 

Shrugging, “That’s what you get for burying me, Kid,” Tony tells the boy which causes Izuku to pout even more. Tony gestures to one of the buckets near the boy. “Give me one of those, and I’ll show you a _really_ great way to make some sandcastles.”

 

Izuku’s mood brightens considerably so at that, and hands one over to Tony. Together, the two starts building, creating their very own mini fortress made out of white sand, pebbles, and saltwater.

 

 

 

It’s a while later as he’s completing the finishing touches for a tower with mini seashells as windows, that Tony realizes that he hadn’t even answered the boy’s question.

 

“How did you know I was watching All Might videos?” Tony asks, patting a chunk of sand tight into the tower. The rest of the sand fortress shimmers under the sunset and Tony’s quite pleased with how far they’ve come with their work.

 

Izuku looks up, halfway done with creating a moat around their fortress. There’s sand suck all over his curls and a splatter on his face, and when the boy tries to wipe it away, more sand appears on him.

 

“Because I was watching him too!” Izuku says like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

 

Tony’s mind momentarily screeching a sudden stop as he blinks. _Wait? What now?_

 

Izuku continues, tilting his head to the side as he pursed his lips together, unaware of Tony’s horrifying expression. “Well it felt like I could see whatever you’re seeing, if that makes sense? Like you’re me and I’m you, but you’re controlling everything.” The boy’s eyes then sparkles. “Sort of like being inside a giant robot!”

 

Izuku’s eyes then dims slightly. “Although I wished we had eaten Mom’s dinner though. She makes some really, yummy Katsudon and she always gets sad if I don’t finish everything off my plate.”

 

The boy looks at Tony, grinning slightly. “Let’s not forget next time, okay, Mr. Stark?”

 

Tony stares, brain trying to register everything he’s heard, and dumbly nods his head. Izuku’s grin grows more at that, and the boy turns back to his work leaving Tony to figure out _what_ exactly he had just told him.

 

Tony chews the inside of his cheek, mind spinning and then decides, ‘ _I’m too tired for this shit’_ , and promptly ends the line of thought from every occurring in his head. He’ll figure this out later.

 

Turning to face the sea, Tony hums, watching waves lop against the shoreline. “So…” he starts after a minute has passed. “This All Might guy. Is he some sort of action type movie star? Like Tom Cruise?”

 

There’s the sound of a chocked gasp, and Tony turns around to find Izuku’s staring right at him with an expression that does not _absolutely_ fit the young boy’s face.

 

“Tom who?” Izuku asks, looking positively scandalized. “All Might isn’t some movie star. Although he did do several films back a few years ago…” the boy starts to ramble but then shakes his head to stop himself. “But he’s not that! All Might’s a hero.”

 

 _A hero?_ Tony churns the words inside his head, knitting his brows in confusion. “You mean… like an _actual_ hero? Kicking bad guys’ butts and saving the day type of thing?”

 

The boy enthusiastically nods his head, moat temporarily forgotten in favor of sitting closer to Tony. “Yep! He does all that and _more_. Just like you do, Mr. Stark, as Iron Man.”

 

The comment strikes something deep inside Tony’s heart and sends it beating into a frenzy. A shock wave of emotions crawls up his spine, and it feels like he’s been kicked hard in the guts and stabbed at the same time. Tony can feel his lungs constricting and swallows several gulps of salty air to calm himself.

 

He tries to offer the boy a wobbly half-smile. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, Kid. I ain’t no hero.”

 

No. No he isn’t. A _real_ hero would have defeated Thanos _way_ before the first snap could happen.

 

 _And a real hero wouldn’t have to sacrifice themselves to save the day_ , a bitter voice cuts through Tony’s head, and he frowns, sadly agreeing with it.

 

Izuku’s lips slant downwards, green eyes staring at Tony with a mix of concern and intense optimism as if believing he could prove Tony wrong, and Tony can’t help but look away. Feeling his stomach sink at the expression.

_Peter used to look at me like that…_

 

A long moment passes by them before Izuku speaks up again. Voice soft like the waves gently lapping nearby with a serene expression in his look. “I think you are a hero, Mr. Stark. You did the whole snap thing against Thanos and sacrificed yourself to save everyone.”

 

Tony’s body goes _ice-cold._

 

His eyes snap back to Izuku, widening as to how on Earth the boy could even _know_ of such a thing. Izuku silently meets his gaze, keeping his head up high and a serious look upon his chubby face.

 

“You _are_ a hero, Mr. Stark. Just as cool as All Might.”

 

Tony finds it hard to breathe.

 

The ocean looks imposing now, the water churning a murky dark hue that makes the waves crash and boom loud against his eardrums. The sand even feels sharp like broken glass beneath his feet and Tony shakes his head to himself. He needs to get out of here. _Fast._

 

He quickly gets up, ignoring the confused look spreading across Izuku’s face.

 

“Mr. Stark?”

 

Tony picks a direction and _walks_.

 

“Mr. Stark?” Izuku cries out again, watching him leave. “Wait, Mr. Stark!”

 

Tony keeps on walking, hearing tiny footsteps trying desperately to catch up to him. He quickens his pace, until the boy’s voice and steps become lost in the distance.

 

He bites back the guilt and shame creeping up to him, and looks straight ahead, feeling the sand nick his feet with every step. He has to leave. He has to move as _far_ away as he possible can.  

 

_Sorry, Kid. But I need a moment._

 

For how long, Tony can’t say.

 

 

 

Tony wasn’t sure for how long he has been walking, feeling the beach stretch out more and more as the minutes passed by, but somehow he stumbled upon an open bar tucked underneath a towering palm tree.

 

The sunset had long past the horizon by this point, turning the sky a dreary black covered with a lackluster amount of yellow stars in its grasp. It’s dark, but several tiki torches lit the surrounding bar, illuminating a place devoid of people saved for neatly arranged chairs and tables covered in colorful tablecloths.

 

It _should_ creep him out, that there’s no one around but him, but Tony couldn’t muster up enough of a damn to worry as he made a beeline straight for the drinks.

 

He opens a cabinet, finding an array of bottles each containing something potentially potent and Tony grabs the first one he sees. He pops the cap off with his mouth and takes a long swig from the flask. A strong, very bitter taste of barley and earthiness hits the back of his throat, and a burning sensation follows as Tony swallows it down. It’s only thanks to years of experiences, that Tony doesn’t gag it back up.

 

He lets out a shaky breathe. _That. Is some strong shit._

 

It taste exactly like the worst beer imaginable, water downed to keep already drunk people occupied with their thoughts and miseries as they sip shitty drinks. Tony can’t help but grin at the familiar taste. _Hello, old friend._

 

He takes another swig. Then another, and another, until the bottle’s halfway empty and his mind is as light as a feather floating downstream in a river.

 

He sighs, slouching down onto of the chairs by the bar and faces out the ocean. The waves twist and crash against the shoreline, sending specks of sand and saltwater into his eyes. He leans back, holding the bottle loose in his hand and feeling his mind blissfully blank out.

 

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but he hears a chair next to him scrapping across the sand. Tony turns his head, meeting Izuku’s eyes as the boy sits cross-legged on the chair; nursing a glass of an orange liquid between his hands.

 

Tony jolts out a hand, his mind barely registering the sluggish movement.

 

“…That…better be…orange juice…Kid,” Tony slurs.

 

The boy winces, staring down at his glass with a sullen expression before nodding. “It is.”

 

Silence falls between them, the crash of the ocean waves filling in the awkwardness of the situation and Tony takes another swig, trying and failing to think of something to talk about.

 

“You shouldn’t drink that.”

 

Tony looks up, a bit startled. Izuku’s staring hard at the bottle in his hand with an unreadable expression, and the boy shifts his gaze onto the glass with his lips pulled tight into a solid, thin line.

 

It’s quite a serious look for someone so young and innocent.

 

“My…” Izuku begin, then pauses to take in deep breathe of air. “My _daddy_ ,” the word coming out almost a hiss through clenched teeth, “used to drink a lot all the time. My mommy never liked it, and daddy would sometimes get mad whenever she scolded him…” The boy doesn’t elaborate more and takes a sip of his juice.

 

“I don’t like it either.” Izuku looks straight into Tony’s eyes as he continues speaking, frowning deeply. “Plus, alcohol is like _super_ bad for you. And you can’t save people if you’re drunk!”

 

The boy’s words hit deep, and Tony’s mind suddenly clears up like a fog vanishing against a ray of sunlight. He see things crystal clear now.

 

The bottle clack on the table as Tony placed it down, and he wraps an arm around Izuku, pulling the boy in tight to him. He buries his head onto the messy green curls that stick out from Izuku’s head, and breathes in the scent of sand and green tea.

 

_“Sorry.”_

 

It’s not enough, and Tony can only hope the boy could forgive him for leaving so suddenly.

 

The boy circles tiny arms around him. “It’s okay Mr. Stark,” Izuku’s voice muffles through Tony’s shirt. He shifts a bit in their hug, and blinks bright green eyes up at Tony. “I’m also sorry for saying the wrong thing again and making you sad.”

 

Tony sighs, gently squeezing Izuku; he really hates how quick the boy thinks everything’s his fault and Tony hopes he can nip it the bud soon. “Nah, Kid. Don’t apologize for that, you never said anything wrong.”

 

The boy pressed his lips together, unconvinced but settles his head back onto Tony’s shoulder. The two stared out into the ocean, watching the wave and feeling a cool breeze of sulfur and salt brush past their faces.

 

Tony bites his lip, thinking everything’s he had seen over and steels his nerves, knowing he’s about to breach unknown territories. But he _has_ to know. He has too.

 

“Hey, Kid?” Tony starts. Izuku hums, angling his head upwards and having his hair tickle Tony’s nose. “You said that you knew how I fought against Thanos, right?”

 

A tense beat of silence follows, and then Izuku hums again, faintly this time.

 

“How?”

 

The boy stills, and Tony quickly reassures the boy by rubbing a hand on the boy’s back. “Don’t worry, Kid. Remember, you’re never going to say anything wrong that might upset me. Trust me.”

 

The boy pulls back suddenly, clutching tight at the edge of his shirt as he creases his brows together. “Really?”

 

Tony offers the boy a small, calm smile. “Really, really.”

 

Izuku stares at him for a moment longer, green eyes shimmering almost ethereal like under the sky night, before taking a deep breath.

 

 “Okay,” Izuku says, “Well, I watched all the movies, Mr. Stark.”

 

Tony blinks, brain barely processing what the boy had just said. “The movies?” he repeats slowly.

 

The boy nods, bouncing a bit in his seat. “Yep! The movies. I’ve seen Infinity War over like a hundred times, and Endgame over fifty times too! But, I really liked Captain America: Civil War the most. It had pretty much everyone!”

 

Izuku’s beaming a bright smile as him and Tony has to blink very slowly before leaning back into his seat. He reaches over and slides Izuku’s glass to himself, causing the boy to pout as Tony takes a long gulp.

 

“…Alright, Kid,” Tony says, rubbing a hand over his face as he watched Izuku buzz with unrestrained excitement before his eyes. “Let take it from the top, shall we?”

 

 

 

By the time the sun had risen up in the far distance, releasing rays of orange and yellow light into the sky, Tony had learned more about himself and All Might than he ever needed to know.

 

Tony hums, tapping a cup of steaming black coffee in his hand, watching puffs of white smoke swirl out from the top. He blows into it before taking a sip. “So…quirks are like super-powers, basically.”

 

“Yep,” Izuku chirps under a mouthful of hot chocolate. “Pretty much everyone has a quirk.” There’s a flicker of sadness in his face as he says that before he continues. “You can be super strong like Captain America, control thunder like Thor can, or even shrink in size like Ant Man.”

 

Tony scoffs lightly in his mug, remembering his interaction with Lang. “Nobody cares about Ant Man.”

 

Izuku makes a face at that but curves his lips into a smile. He takes another sip of his mug. “You know Mr. Stark, out of all the superheroes I had read or saw in the movies, you were always my favorite.”

 

Tony swallows down the coffee in his mouth, nearly burning his throat. He tries to ignore the pitter patter of his heart, and causally shrugs a shoulder, giving Izuku his best ‘Tony Stark’ grin. “Cause I’m dastardly handsome, and super amazing at what I do?” he asks.

 

Izuku giggles softly and looks off into the sunrise.  Orange rays hit his face, highlighting the sparkles in his eyes and the way his face softens into an almost wistful expression.

 

“Maybe,” Izuku says, then whispers the last words so quietly that it carries out into the wind and down the ocean waves. “But really…”

 

_“You’re sort of like me.”_

 

 


	6. Snap, crackle, punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't mess with Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, update here!  
> Been busy with school, so chapters will be updating sporadically until further notice.  
> Hope you'll enjoy this one, I sure did, especially towards the end. :D
> 
> Some things I wanted to clarify:  
> 1\. In the MHA manga, it's implied that comic books do actually exists so Tony's world, the Marvel Universe, simply exist like it does in our real world. Through comics, movies, tv shows, etc. Iron Man isn't a real hero, at least not like All Might is, but a comic character beloved by many and still remembered despite decades passing after the final films. 
> 
> 2\. Tony and Izuku are sharing a body, and are sort like one. They both feel everything Tony's experiencing, even though Tony's the one in control most of the time. Sometimes Izuku would take over, and you'll know when that would happen.  
> \----  
> I think that's it for now, if there's anything you need me to explain, please do ask! I might not be able to spoil everything, but I'll do my best to provide you with an answer. 
> 
> Anyway, have fun reading this chapter. Free feel to leave a comment on how you felt, Cuz' I always love reading them!  
> (◕▽◕✿)  
> \-------

Monday hits Tony _hard_ like a freight train going off rails and careening straight into a wall.

 

He wakes to the sound of an alarm clock buzzing erratically near his ears and the taste of sand in his mouth. He grimaces, licking his dry lips as the early morning sun begins peering through his curtains and bathing the room in a golden hue of rays. Tony squints up at the brightness, rubbing his crust-covered eyes before rising more in his bed and turning the alarm off.

 

Remnants of Izuku’s words swish and swirl inside his head; pieces of their conversations popping in and out of existence like firecrackers lit up against a night sky and Tony lazily goes over them, muffling out a yawn trying to slip out his lips.

 

Tony then sucks in a breath as everything he knows now comes into fruition before him. This…is a _lot_ to take in.

 

To know of quirks. Super, magical powers that allows people to do the improbable things Tony had only witnessed a handful of times before in his past life. Things that he would had rather seen remained locked and gone for good.

 

But now—Tony rubs a hand over his tired face as he thinks it through— _now_ , he has to deal with a whole world of people that could potentially do all that and _more_.

 

_I’m surprised the world’s not currently on fire._

 

The morbid thought does little to alleviate his growing uneasiness, and he steps out from the bed, feeling his bones ache from staying stiff for so long. Tony does some stretches, taking careful measured breath till he can feel his heartrate ease down to a tolerable pace, but strangely, he still feels _off_. Like there’s a restlessness lurking just beneath his skin, a low buzz emanating from somewhere deep inside his core and wanting to burst out free and into the wild.

 

He swallows, a bit alarmed at what he feels but tapers it down with a long exhale out through his nose. Tony then glances around the room, his eyes landing onto the clock hanged high above his doorway and a small grimace starts to form around his face.

 

“School begins around 8’o clock,” he mutters to himself, then stops, blinking in wonder at the sudden new information that had slipped out his mouth. How did he know that? Tony shakes his head, if his dreams were any indication, then most likely it has something to do with Izuku.

 

Izuku’s bright smile appears in his mind, and the edges of Tony’s mouth curves upwards into a smile. He’s grown to like the cheeky brat; every bit as smart as Peter and twice as mischievous as Morgan was. It’s enough for Tony to think the two kids had never left his side, and he can’t help but feel grateful for getting another chance to experience that feeling again.

 

His only hope, though, is that he doesn’t end up disappointing Izuku like he did with Morgan and Peter when he had made that last-minute decision to snap his fingers and leave the two without uttering a final goodbye.

 

The edges of his mouth slants downwards to a frown and Tony blinks, feeling his eyes wet and hot. He can’t change the past, nor his previous life, but perhaps…he change what he has right now.

 

At least for Izuku’s sake.

 

Tony quickly thumbs away his tears, and nods firmly to himself. _Yeah, I’ll do it for the kid._

 

With that in mind he fixes back his messy bed and heads out the door and straight into the smell of a cooked breakfast that permeates every inch of the hallway. His stomach grumbles out loud, complaining to Tony about skipping dinner last night, and Tony sighs. He might as well eat something before heading off to school.

 

He lets the heavy, rich scent guide him down the hallway, and to the kitchen doorway. Peering in, Tony finds the woman fiddling with what looked like to be a coffee machine resting on top of the kitchen counter. She presses a button and the machine putters and squirts out nothing but hot air into a cup, causing the woman to frown and mumble fast to herself while tapping her chin with a finger.

 

Tony sports a similar frown to his face, stepping silently inside and approaching the woman slowly. His ears catch the tail-end of her ramble, _“—and I just had this fixed…”_ she mumbles softly as he finally stands beside her; his frown now deepen with concern.

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

The woman startles, twisting her head to him as she draws a hand up to her chest. _“Izuku!”_ she squeals, and it’s almost like a repeat of yesterday’s morning except the woman recovers herself within seconds. She lets out a breath and offers Tony a smile that strain against her lips and does little to alleviate the wrinkles that form around her brows.

 

“Good morning, sweetie. Everything’s fine,” the woman tells him. Her eyes then flicker over to the coffee machine in front of them, “Just the usual. Machine’s been acting up, _again_.” Something tells Tony that this is a common occurrence and he turns his gaze onto the broken equipment next to him. It’s nothing complex, actually its relatively primitive compared to the other coffee machines he had seen in his lifetime and Tony hums, mind buzzing with potential solutions.

 

 Before he realizes it, his mouth opens and Tony blurts out, “I could take a look at it, if you’d like?”

 

A stutter and Tony hastily shifts his attention back onto the woman; watching her face go through a range of shocked expressions before settling on mixed apprehension.

 

“Do you really think you can fix it, sweetie?” There’s a sense of worry in her tone as she stares down at him, dark green eyes carefully narrowing to study his face and Tony panics internally, hoping he hasn’t raised any suspicion. He wrecks his brain hard for a viable excuse.

 

“I read a few things on the internet,” Tony causally fibs, hoping the woman would believe him. He hates to lie, especially to someone who had been nothing but kind to him, but he’d rather not have her questioning his sudden newfound knowledge on fixing broken machinery.

 

She hums, chewing at the edge of her lips as she continues staring for a long moment that makes sweat start to perspire on the back of Tony’s neck before a bright grin breaks out onto the woman’s face.

 

“That’s true,” she chuckles, reaching over to pinch his cheek, “you’re always so good at learning new things and super quick to master them too. My little smart boy.” She then let go and dips her head in approval. “Alright, give it a shot, sweetie. Just make sure you don’t break it anymore than it already is, k’?”

 

Tony mutely nods back, feeling all too relieved that the woman had brought his lie to say anything.

 

Her grin brightens a bit more. “Breakfast is on the table. I’m going to go wash up now and get dressed. You should get ready soon, otherwise we’re going to be late for your school.” With that, she starts to head out, before stopping briefly just by the doorway. She turns back to regard him once more, the grin light and soft on her lips, with a fond expression overtaking her rosy face.

 

“Thank you, Izuku,” she whispers gently and finally exits the doorway, leaving Tony breathless as he watches her go.

 

He swallows, taking a moment to try and ease his rapidly beating heart. _She’s so beautiful_ , Tony realizes, and every bit as amazing as the Pepper he knew in his previous life.

 

Tony wills himself to remain focused, burying the sudden thought to the depths of his mind as he heads over to one of the nearby drawers; legs wobbly as if made of Jell-O-O. He shuffles through the various kitchen items inside before finding just what he needs: a screwdriver.

 

The machine lays before him and Tony starts to dismantle it piece by piece; feeling the familiar comfort of a well-set routine settling back into his hands; his movements more precise and attentive as he pulls apart the wires and unnecessary bolts that hold up the coffee machine.

 

There’s a growing smile on his face as he works; _this is just like the old times._

 

 

 

 

When the woman arrives back thirty minutes later, Tony had just finished the last bite of his breakfast; a delicious meal of omelet rice and miso soup.

 

The woman’s smoothing out her uniform, a black pin skirt that reaches past her knees with a ruffled white blouse and a pair of penny loafers to complete the ensemble. She looks wonderful, Tony believes, and he makes his thoughts known that earns him a giggle from her lips. She pauses, taking note of the still steaming cup of coffee on the table; green eyes widening significantly in a comical way as she stares.

 

“Oh, sweetie!” she exclaims, rushing over to him. “You were able to fix the coffee machine?”

 

Tony grins, slurping up the last of his milk. “Yep. Figured it was just a few parts that needed some tweaking.” He moves past the cup and pats the coffee machine laying right next to it. “Now this bad boy can fix all your coffee urges in a matter of seconds.”

 

The woman blinks, taking in what he had just said, before grinning just the same, a trio of chuckles escaping her mouth.

 

“My sweet, smart, little Izuku.” The praise does something funny inside Tony’s chest, and he averts his eyes to his empty plate; cheeks and the tips of his ears dyed a light pink red.

 

“It’s really nothing…” he mumbles more to himself, but the pat on his head indicates the woman heard it too.

 

“But it _is_ something _,_ sweetie,” and Tony snaps his head up to meet warm green eyes filled bright with adoration and love. “What you did just now was amazing, and I personally think you’re on your way to becoming something _great_.”

 

Tony finds all the air leaving out his lungs, and a repeat of Izuku’s words ringing loud inside his ears.

 

_“You’re a hero, Mr. Stark.”_

 

A wobbly smile appears on his lips, “Thanks, mom.” He wants to say more but finds the very act of speaking suddenly new and unknown. He gets up from the chair. “I’m going to go take a quick shower and get dressed.” And briskly leaves before the woman could say another word.

 

In the safety of the bathroom, Tony inhales a long-needed breath, sinking low to the floor. He’s not sure how to feel; can he really be a hero after royally fucking up so many times before in the past? Events of a long-ago life begins to play out inside his mind; of his time back in New York City fighting against Chitauri with a newly assembled cast of colorful characters, of his time in Sokovia racing against time to stop a sentient robot from destroying half the city and even the time of squaring off against his once considered friends with an empty airport as their battlefield.

 

So many little events that bend and blur together, spanning over a decade long till the memories reaches the final end; him and a handful of others facing off against a mad, determined titan and having the fate of the entire universe resting on top of Tony’s shoulders.

 

And it all ended with a snap.

 

Tony shudders, feeling his eyes blur with wetness. He’s sinking low and deep into the pits of his own misery and he can’t escape their grasping hands, threatening to drag him deeper and deeper and all Tony wants is to let them do just that.

 

But there’s something bright at the edge of the surface, a small voice cheering out for him that oddly sounds too much like Izuku and a little like Peter, guiding him away with their voices and up to the light.

 

 _“You are a hero!”_ they cry out, and Tony wants, and so _desperately_ wants to believe that.

 

He furiously wipes away the tears. Tony’s not sure where the voices are coming from, but the tension and uneasiness that had wrapped around his neck like a noose had all but disappeared, leaving him feel lighter now.

 

His reaches upwards to grab the green bottle resting on top of the windowsill, letting the smell of honeydew take his mind away from his troubles for that brief moment and starts to shed off his clothes. He can’t stay for long as much as he would like too, not with school happening in just under an hour.

 

After a very brisk wash under the shower, Tony was starting to feel back to his old self. All thoughts about his past life were firmly locked and tucked away to remain hidden in the back of his brain. He’d go over it when he’s in a better frame of mind, but for now—Tony sharply inhales and squares up his shoulders.

 

Now comes the hardest part in his entire life, now and the previous one. _School_.

 

Five minutes later, he steps out his room, grumbling lightly to himself as he checks his clothes once last time for any wrinkles or creases. He can’t believe he has to wear a _uniform_ ; he hasn’t done that since elementary school and his mother had wanted to send him to a place that was less a school and more of a glorified daycare.

 

He grimaces at the unwanted memories and makes his way back down the hall and into the kitchen where he sees the woman tying a large green cloth over a series of boxes containing what looked to be food. He meets her eyes and she smiles, tying one last knot before letting go. She hands it over to him, green eyes narrowing sharply to scrutinize every inch of his body and Tony _prays_ he did a decent job in wearing his uniform.

 

An appreciative nod of her head answers his question and Tony sucks out a sigh of relief.

 

“You look great, sweetie!” the woman chirps out, gathering up her things into a purse. “And you even did your tie properly this time! Guess I don’t need to help you anymore,” she adds in with a tease.

 

Tony blinks, then stutters, hoping that a fixed _tie_ of all things won’t out him so soon. He gives a nonchalant shrug, a sheepish grin plastered tight on his face as he starts shoving the lunch bag deep into his backpack.

 

“Well you know…” he sputters, coming up with a reason.  “The internet…”

 

The woman arches up a brow, nodding slowly. “The internet,” she repeats, almost carefully and the alarm bells in Tony’s mind are going off all at once. His eyes dart around the room, trying to not meet the woman’s curious gaze before they land onto a clock resting on top of the counter.

 

“Hey, isn’t it almost time for school?”

 

That snaps her out from her reverie, and the woman gasps, glancing up at the clock as well.

 

“Oh dear! You’re right, sweetie! Come on, if we hurry we could make it to the 7:10 bus.” She nudges him out the doorway and into the living room. “Just grab your shoes and meet me by the door.”

 

Tony doesn’t protest, making his way over to where he sees the shoe-rack all the way near the back of the room. His eyes instantly gravitates towards the big, red shoes placed neatly near the rack. They’re boxy shaped, almost resembling Nike Air Force sneakers that are a little on the scruff side, but other than that, the shoes look well taken care of. A large grin appears onto Tony’s mouth; _Kid’s got good taste._

 

He puts them on, feeling them loose on his feet and hums. It’s bigger than he original thought it would be and he wonders if he should make some minor adjustments later to make it properly fit.

 

“Izuku!”

 

Tony grabs his backpack, rushing out the room. “Coming!”

 

He meets the woman at the end of the hallway, just realizing now that one of the doors was the main entrance for their home. He frowns, considering the rows of locks and chains lining the side of the front door. _A break in before?_ Tony wonders to himself. Or maybe the woman is overly cautious.

 

Then again, if people could already do terrible things without super-powers, what _more_ can they do with quirks?

 

A shiver of fear creeps down Tony’s spine and he shudders. He’d rather not know. _At all._

 

“Ready, sweetie?” the woman asks as she looks at herself in the full-length mirror nailed to a nearby wall. She pats down her clothes one more time before meeting his eyes with a smile.

 

Nodding, Tony takes a moment to suck in a deep breath. Based on Izuku’s words, everyone in this country has some sort of ‘quirk’ that might cause unique features to appear on their bodies. It could be something as simple as producing a set of horns on top of their heads to having the physique or even characteristics of an animal or object.

 

Tony had seen his fair share of unusual characters before in his old life; from a talking, snarky raccoon to a woman made more of metal and wires than blood and bones, but it was only a handful of encounters sprinkled throughout his entire life. Something he only got to see, all thanks to working alongside the Avengers and getting caught up in world ending shenanigans.

 

Now? Now, he hopes he doesn’t act like what he did the first time he met Smart Hulk; being a complete, gaping idiot and staring nonstop.

 

 

 

He’s doing a rather piss-poor job of not staring.

 

The bus rattles down the road, puffs of gas hitting Tony’s nostrils from his position near the window, and his head is angled in such a way to give him the best view possible of the person sitting across from him.

 

It’s a woman. Petite and dressed in a nurse outfit, nothing odd about her saved for her head resembling that of a blow-fish; tiny spikes sticking out and puffed up cheeks blowing wide with indignant as she stares Tony down with a tight frown.

 

He feels a light nudge on his shoulder, and glances up to find the woman, his mother, looking at him with a slant of her brows and a pained smile plastered on her lips. Her eyes dart to the other woman sitting across from them. “Sweetie, it’s not polite to stare.”

 

Tony’s cheeks redden, shame creeping up to him and ducks his head down, mumbling out an apology. He hears the woman sigh, and a hand moving down to rest on top of his shoulder; the familiar weight comforting and welcomed but doing little to alleviate the feeling of being caught with both hands stuck in the cookie jar.

 

He hadn’t meant to stare, but ever since he stepped foot outside the front door, all Tony could do _was_ _stare_.   

 

Everything was so new to his eyes, felt bright and strangely euphoric as well, and even though he was able to school his expression into one of boredom, he could feel the low buzz just lurking within an inch underneath his skin, scratching and begging to get out.

 

Tony sighs and leans more into the woman’s touch, hearing her chuckle above his head. He closes his eyes, letting the rumble of the bus lull him into a sense of inner calmness. He can still feel the buzz beneath his skin, the eagerness bubbling up inside to learn more of the world around him and Tony has to shove them back down hard into his body least he loses control. He needs to remain calm, keep his appearance up until he can figure out more about his unique situation.

 

He contemplates though, on what might await him at school.

 

 

 

The bus ride ends too quickly for his liking, and Tony finds himself in front a gate leading up to a medium size school; gaggles of similarly dressed students congregating in small packs or duos, chattering up a storm to one another, their voices intermingling together to form one large noise. A couple of lone wolves lingers by the edge of the gate, burying their faces onto their phones, but it seems everyone is lost in their own little world, not paying any head to Tony as he stands just outside the gate.

 

The woman scans around, humming to herself as she stares at the sea of children before her. “Hmm, I don’t see Bakugou-kun anywhere,” she says, and the mentioned name triggers an odd reaction on Tony’s face. He’s grimacing but swiftly smooths it into a faint grin when the woman looks his way. “Do you think he’s inside?”

 

Tony makes the move to shrug, but then realizes the rudeness of it and settles for a head shake. “Maybe.” His eyes dance around every passing student in front of him, taking in the various oddities that make up their appearances. His eyes land and fixate onto a young girl chatting to a boy, her neck elongated and bendy almost like a giraffe.

 

_I wonder if she has to bend her head every time she walks past a door?_

 

He muses on the thought, lost in his head until he feels someone shaking his shoulder. He snaps out from his thoughts and looks up to find the woman sporting a worried expression on her face.

 

“Is everything alright, sweetie?”

 

Tony blinks, realizing he hasn’t been paying attention to whatever the woman was saying and offers her an apologetic grin. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

 

The woman presses her lips together, no doubt not believing him, but relents, letting go to brush away loose strands of hair away from his face.

 

“If you say so, sweetie,” she says quietly, before brightening up with a grin. “School’s about to start.” As if one cue, a bell echoes loudly out from the school and into the yard, sending the students clamoring up the steps to get inside. There’s a fond expression set on her face as the woman watches, before turning her gaze onto Tony. “I won’t be home until later, so let me know if you’re planning to go home or stay with Bakugou-kun.”

 

She pinches his cheek before he can reply back. “Have a great day at school, sweetie!”

 

Tony nods, feeling the warmth of the woman’s fingers nestle deep within his skin. He turns and gives her a final wave goodbye. “See ya later, mom!” Then follows the herd of students heading inside.

 

It’s only when he steps past the threshold of the school that Tony realizes with a sudden fright that he has absolutely no _idea_ where his class is.

 

 

 

 

After running up and down the stairs and several hallways trying desperately to wreck the inner parts of his brain for any ideas as to where his class might be, a kind, old janitor takes pity on his soul and shows him the way.

 

The janitor eyes him a bit oddly, not exactly buying Tony’s flimsy excuse of temporary amnesia but doesn’t say a word as they walk the empty hallways.

 

He’s late, Tony knows that for sure and a growing sense of dread starts to churn inside his stomach as they slowly approach the class door. A quick glance at the plaque hanging above reads ‘Third Grade: Classroom A’ and Tony stifles a frustrating sigh from escaping his mouth. _Great._ He’s back in elementary school.

 

They stop just a foot away from the door and the janitor, a man with a jutted out jaw made of metal, points at it.

 

“There it be, kid.”

 

Tony gives a nod of thanks before opening the door, the chatter of students from behind instantly falling silent as all eyes turn to him at once. He falters, only because so many of the students staring at him look quite belonging to a science fiction novel, before steadying himself, plastering on a winning grin on his face.

 

“Midoriya Izuku,” a voice drawls up from the front and Tony tears his gaze away to find a teacher staring down at him. Pointy nose doing little to cover the sneer encompassing most of his face. “Is there a reason as to why you’re coming in _15_ minutes late into my classroom?”

 

A ripple of snickers erupt from the students, but Tony pays them no heed as he stares directly at the man’s _very_ pointy nose. _Giving Pinocchio a run for his money, eh?_

The teacher arches an unimpressed brow, waiting for a response and Tony bows his head low, a lie on the edge of his tongue.

 

“Sorry, _sensei_ ,” Tony says, finding the new word odd in his ears, “But I ended up oversleeping.”

 

Not the best excuse, but it beats trying to explain his sudden memory loss.

 

A tired sigh leaves the man’s mouth and he does a shooing motion at Tony with his hand. “Just go to your seat, Mr. Midoriya. We’ll discuss about your tardiness during Lunch.”

 

More snickers erupt as well as a few chorus of ‘oohs!” but Tony’s not one to sink low to childish antics. He scans around the room, finding an empty seat several rows away and next to the large sets of windows on the side of the room. He makes his way over it, passing by many curious stares.

 

He brushes past one such student, a boy with blonde hair sticking out in sharp spikes and amber eyes burning intensely as he stares straight at Tony, even swiveling in his seat to watch him go.

 

Tony calmly meets the boy’s gaze, tilting his head as to why the person is practically giving him the stink eye, and the scowl etched on the boy’s face deepens even more.

 

“Now then,” the teacher says as he starts writing something onto the board, “let’s turn to Chapter 8 in the textbook and begin our discussion about Photosynthesis….”

 

Tony tunes the rest of the man’s words out, cradling his chin over a hand, a tired, dull expression settling on his face. He had learned all of these things before in his life, does he really need to go over them again?

 

The hours fly by quick, and before Tony knows it, the bell rings for lunch and the students begin gathering up all their class, excited chatters filling the air.

 

Tony makes a move to pack his stuff, his stomach growling in anticipation for the woman’s delicious meal, when a sharp voice cuts through the chatter and straight into his ears.

 

“Oi, _Deku_.”

 

Tony blinks, looking up from where he was just putting his book back inside his bag to find the same blonde boy from earlier. Staring him down with a scowl while two boys, one with an ever-grinning smirk on his face, and the other, a chubby kid with a large pair of wings on his back, linger nearby; glancing at Tony with loud, annoying snickers.

 

Tony blinks again, slowly looking around to see if the boy is addressing anybody else, before pointing to himself. “Are you talking to me?” he asks, and apparently that’s the wrong thing to say as the blonde boy’s expression turns _murderous_.

 

“Are you mocking me, shitty Deku?”

 

There’s something sounding like a crackle punctuating the end of his words, and before Tony can even begin to question what on _Earth_ the boy was even talking about, another voice cuts in, this one older and very annoyed.

 

The teacher approaches them with quick long strides, face barely containing his disdain. “I suggest, Mr. Bakugou,” he tells the blonde student, “that if you want to discuss something with Mr. Midoriya, then to do it _outside_ of the school.”

 

The blonde boy, now known as Bakugou, presses his lips hard into a thin, tight line but doesn’t object. He instead pins Tony a particularly harsh glare, and hisses out, “Meet me at the swings, _Deku_ ,” before turning on his heels and marching away, the other two boys following closely behind.

 

Tony watches them go, and turns his attention back on to the teacher whose now looking down on him with his pointy nose turned up high in the air as if the man had just smelled something unpleasant. “Now then, Mr. Midoriya. About your punishment for your tardiness…”

 

Five minutes later, and Tony leaves the classroom with his own scowl screwed hard onto his face, appetite no longer on his mind and a dark, black cloud hanging close. He has _cleaning_ duty for the next two weeks.

 

  _And_ he has to do it all by himself.

 

He stops by the stairs, rubbing a hand over his face and taking controlled, careful breath for ten seconds. He can’t let himself get angry, not when he’s currently in Izuku’s body and somehow causing more harm than good. Tony prays that Izuku wouldn’t mind the extra workload and feels utterly bad for the boy.

 

 _I’m going to make it up to the Kid_ , Tony firmly tells himself. It won’t be until much later though, when he falls asleep.

 

His stomach growls for sustenance and Tony sighs, knowing he might as well eat lunch. The woman’s lunch box is still in his backpack and Tony contemplates if he should risk going to the cafeteria. The bathroom is also another potential option, however unsanitary it might be.

 

The laughter of children playing draws Tony to the window, and he sees a gaggle of school kids rough housing about with each other; their strange, interesting abilities showing every now and then in their games.

 

Tony chews on the bottom of his lip; _maybe I can just eat outside._

 

Ten minutes later and Tony’s sitting under a tree, watching the rowdy students from afar and munching on pieces of cooked meat. The leaves above offer refuge from the hot afternoon-sun, cooling his skin as Tony leans against the thick bark to rest his weary head.

 

Mind buzzing thanks to everything he’s witnessing right now, the urge to write is too strong, and Tony pulls a notebook out from his bag. He starts writing, scribbling things down onto his book of some of the students he sees playing a round of soccer.

 

He doesn’t notice someone next to him until a shadow falls over his notebook, obscuring most of his words. Tony frowns, looking up to find the Bakugou boy looming over him, hands clenched tight into fists. The other two boys standing just a foot away.

 

“Shitty Deku,” Bakugou growls, “I told you to meet me by the swings.”

 

Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead scribbling down more stuff. “Well as you can see, I’m eating right now.”

 

A low snarl and the booming sounds of crackles alerts Tony to look up, pausing mid-write and zooming his eyes onto the boy’s clenched hands; currently lighting up bright like fireworks and smelling strongly of burnt caramel. The boy meets his gaze and a large, eager sneer takes over his face.

 

“Wanna say that again, _quirkless_ , shitty Deku?” The boy asks, deliberately slow and raises up his fist, the sounds of crackles louder than ever in Tony’s ears.

 

Tony stares, taking in the terribly concealed threat and the way the boy’s hand is just inches away from his face, and frowns even more; his alright mood plummeting sharply into the not-so-great mood.

 

A _bully_ , Tony realizes, his expression darkening. He hadn’t faced these kinds of people since High School, and a well-aimed kicked to the balls and a good reminder as to _who_ his father was, was enough to keep most of them at bay. Not all of them, though.

 

Tony snorts to himself, remembering those school days with a bitter taste in his mouth. Mother never liked him fighting, and his father was more worried about the family’s reputation than his own son getting a black eye and coming home with a ripped uniform. Only Jarvis, his butler, was the main one to care for his well-being. Teaching Tony the basic fighting skills needed to survive a fight and being a constant pillar whenever Tony needed someone to lean on.

 

 _"You will do great things, Sir,”_ Jarvis would always tell him after cleaning up Tony’s wounds and handing him a glass of warm hot chocolate with tons of whip cream on top to drink.

 

Tony will always treasure those moments in his heart.

 

He sighs, feeling so old and tired for this shit and wants to simply curl up in bed and sleep forever. But he can’t. Because he’s a Stark.

 

And Starks don’t run away.

 

He snaps his notebook shut, startling the blonde boy and causing the other two to flinch at the sharp, sudden sound.

 

“Look _Porcupine_ ,” Tony hisses, and he can see the boy’s red eyes widening comical at the nickname. “I’m not in the mood right now. So just leave me _alone_.” He starts shoving his things quickly into his backpack, not caring for the mess and shouldering past the boy to make his way back to the classroom.

 

He makes it ten steps in when he hears an almost animalistic screech and stomps heading his way.

 

“Who do you think you are, Deku? You’re just a worthless, quirkless kid!”

 

A hand roughly grabs onto his shoulder, and its _hot_. Burning through his uniform and straight onto his skin and he smells the sting of brunt flesh and a yell is quickly slipping out his lips. The crackles and booms are deafening so close to his eardrums, but through it all, Tony can clearly hear the heavy breathing of the boy behind him, trying to force him to turn around with a harsh tug on his shirt.

 

“Oi! Answer me, Deku!”

 

Something snaps inside Tony, deep full of rage and _wild_ , and he snarls, pivoting his heel and using the momentum of the tug to wind his hand back and shoot a well-aimed punch onto the boy’s unexpected smug face. Tony feels a bit of satisfaction when he hears something crack and the boy _howls_ , clutching his hands over his face while a stream of blood gush to the ground.

 

The boy kneels down, staring up at Tony with such a vicious, killing glare set deep in his amber eyes.

 

Tony simply grins back, showing all his teeth. No doubt, looking slightly unhinged.

 

“I told you, Porcupine. I don’t like repeating myself twice.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap.
> 
> *Do you think Tony's interaction with Bakugou was to your liking?*


	7. Rage of the Quirkless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update here!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this chapter (cuz' I did) and have a Happy Halloween! 
> 
> Feel free to comment about the story, or any question you may want to know. (Also I'm basing the bullying situation on my country and not Japan, so I hope you guys don't mind since I'm trying to get the story to move along better.)
> 
>  
> 
> _*Note: Chapter was based on the BNHA ost 'anguish of the quirkless'.*_
> 
>  
> 
> (◕ᴗ◕✿)  
> \-----------

No wonder Bruce got angry all the time. People. Are _idiots_.

 

The taste of victory is still very fresh inside his mouth, tasting a whole lot like his mom’s cooking with a bit of blood mixed in as seasoning; Tony does little to wipe away the smug grin of satisfaction off his face. His right shoulder is throbbing something _fierce_ and the plasticky seat he’s currently sitting on digs deep into his back, but Tony has never felt such a thrill coursing throughout his whole body than ever before.

 

And he had fought against Thanos. _Twice_.

 

The porcupine looking boy sits far off to the side of him, pointedly looking straight down at the ground with a heavy scowl plastered on his face and nose glowing bright red; a copious amount of bandages and gauze covering a majority of it.

 

Tony had overheard the school nurse saying that the boy’s nose might be broken and can’t help but puff up his chest, utterly _pleased_ that all of his combat training in his previous life hadn’t gone to waste.

 

_That will teach Porcupine not to mess with me again._

 

Closing his eyes, Tony waits under the tense, crushing silence that has engulfed the small Principle’s room the two boys were presently waiting in. He can sense a heated glare boring right at him on occasion, and Tony scoffs to himself, making a show of yawning to illustrate just how little the blonde boy is affecting him.

 

The glaring _intensifies_.

 

Minutes tick on, and the door finally opens; revealing their disgruntled teacher making his way in alongside a short, portly man sporting a heavy set of white eyebrows that obscures most of his eyes. _Probably the principal_ , Tony deduces and is proven correct when the man takes a seat in front of them while their teacher loomed about by a corner like some particularly grumpy owl.

 

The Principal sighs, turning his gaze onto each of them (Tony wonders if the man can even see past through his thick brows) before folding his hands together neatly to rest on the table.

 

“Well then,” the man begins, “this is indeed a _peculiar_ situation.”

 

Tony snorts, a bitter sound that causes everyone to swivel their eyes onto him. Peculiar, is a _damn_ understatement.

 

Considering him for a few moments with brows knitting tightly together in concern, the Principal continues; albeit more slowly and with a careful tone in his voice. “Well…just to let you know that both of your parents will be notified immediately after we get this situation sorted out.”

 

Porcupine boy swears underneath his breath while Tony frowns; he didn’t want to involve the woman in this.

 

She’s done so much for him in the short amount of time he had gotten to know her, and he’d rather deal with this annoying problem alone than to have the woman worry.

 

Clenching his jaw hard, Tony tries his best to taper down the boiling wave of anger that threatens to spill out from his mouth and smooths his expression so not to betray any emotions.

 

The Principal leans back into his chair, “Now then. I’m quite curious as to how this situation even began?” Though Tony can’t see the man’s eyes, he can feel the heavy gaze set onto him and swallows back a cheeky remark.

 

“I don’t know, Principal,” Tony starts, deceptively light in his tone, “I was just minding my own business when _Porcupine_ over there decided to intrude in my space.” Said boy shoots him a nasty glare, hands crackling bright as if ready to launch himself at him for round two.

 

Tony just grins; _bring it on, Porcupine._

A sudden, loud cough stops them from going at each other and they both turn to find the Principal with a deep frown on his face while their teacher sports a similar look underneath his pointy nose.

 

“I see…” The Principal then turns his attention onto the blonde boy. “Is this true, Bakugou?”

 

The boy seethes in his seat, red eyes flickering from the Principal to Tony before scowling down onto the floor. “…Yeah,” he growls out through clenched teeth.

 

The Principal hums, stroking through a long strand of his brow as he considers their words. “And because of that you decided to …” angling his head towards Tony to elaborate more.

 

Grinning proudly, Tony finishes the sentence. “And I decided to punch Porcupine in self-defense after he attacked me.”

 

“I didn’t do shit, Deku!” the Bakugou boy explodes in a fit of rage, unable to no longer control his temper. Though the words come out slightly muffled due to the broken nose.

 

Furrowing his heavy brows sharply at the boy’s rage, the Principal pulls himself forward on his chair to create an imposing look. “Bakugou, my boy,” he warns in a low voice. “I do not tolerate any name-calling or curses in this room!”

 

The boy winces at the tone, gripping at the threads of his pants with a grimace plastered onto his face. He averts his eyes away from Tony and mumbles out something that _sounds_ like an apology, but Tony’s too pissed off to even hear it. He should have punched the kid in the balls too.

 

 _Might have done him some good_ , Tony thinks.

 

Satisfied that his words were heard, the Principal coughs again, continuing where he left off. “Now then, while it seems you two might have been _roughhousing_ a bi—”

 

“Bull-shit.”

 

The brows on the Principal’s face flies upwards in a comical manner, revealing light blue eyes blinking in bewilderment at him. “Midoriya, my boy…” he begins slowly. The teacher’s face scrunches up to glower at Tony, mouth opening to reprimand him as well.

 

“Bull-shit,” Tony repeats, too irate to even care that he had essentially cursed in front of the teacher _and_ the Principal.

 

They thought this was roughhousing?

 

“We weren’t horsing around, Principal,” Tony grits out. “He,” and rotates his body around to point directly at the Bakugou boy whose currently staring at Tony like he suddenly sprouted three heads, “was _bullying_ me. And decided to hurt me after I had wanted nothing to do with him.”

 

Tony takes a moment to breathe, watching the two adults share a look and feels his temper fray at the sight. He _knows_ that look. Seen it countless times before in his previous life during his schooling, even sometimes being at the receiving end of it.

 

And it makes him sick straight down to the pits of his stomach.

 

He reaches upwards at his shoulder, carefully pulling back the top of his shirt so not to irate his wound anymore than necessary. “Please, tell me, “Tony starts, face schooled into a blank expression as he looks at the Principal, “if _this_ is horsing around.”

 

The burn must have been terrible as the Principal’s brows jump up high into the air while the teacher’s face turns an interesting shade of green. There’s an audible intake of a hiss, and Tony flickers his eyes over to Porcupine, finding the blonde boy staring down at the burn with red eyes bulging wide open. A flicker of fear passes across the boy’s face before he swiftly turns his head away.

 

“I didn’t mean it!” the boy argues.

 

Rolling his eyes, Tony levels an unimpressed stare at him. “Sure. Just like I didn’t _mean_ to break your nose.”   

 

The other boy whips his eyes back onto him, hands crackling wild with mini flashes of yellow and orange as his mouth twists into a half snarl. “Wanna go, shitty Deku?”

 

“That’s enough!”

 

Both boys turn their attention onto the Principal, now red in the face and heavy brows firmly resting upon his eyes. “Bakugou, my boy, one more curse and you’ll be having more than just detention you hear me?”

 

Jutting out his jaw in obvious annoyance, the porcupine boy relents, crossing his arms together with a huff. There’s a small frown decorating the edges of his mouth and Tony doesn’t feel sorry one bit. _That’s what you get, Porcupine._

 

Still, it’s not enough, and an interesting idea begins to form inside his mind. Tony chews on it for a long moment, wondering if it’s worth trying and figures he has nothing to lose.

 

After all, Mother did say to him once, a very long time ago, that you can learn a lot about a man’s real character through the use of _blackmail_.

 

Feigning a hurt expression, (though it was more real than fake due to how painful the burn actual is) Tony quivers his lips down to a frown as he addresses the Principal.  “It hurts you know.” The man eyes shifts towards him and Tony starts shedding a few tears. “I just wanted to be left alone and do my work. And I can’t even do that without Blasty over there always harassing and hurting me.”

 

He sniffles, seeing the man’s expression turn sympathetic and Tony adds in more of the waterworks. “And now…now I have this awful burn on my shoulder and my mom’s going to see that and she’s going to be so terribly sad and angry. And who knows?” Tony draws his gaze onto the teacher, who pales at his stare. “She might demand to know why this had happened and why couldn’t the teachers stop it? Maybe she’ll go to a lawyer or some reporter and tell them her plight.” He sniffles again, louder this time.

 

He can see the clogs whirling fast inside the adults’ heads, contemplating on his speech carefully and with their upmost attention, and Tony smiles victoriously to himself. Hook. Line. _And_ sinker.

 

Now for the final piece.

 

Wiping his teary eyes, Tony gives the Principal and teacher his best ‘kicked puppy dog’ look. “And I’m sure that people would believe her. Bullying is pretty frowned upon these days and I bet people would be very angry to learn that a school has done nothing to prevent it from happening to their own students. Especially…”

 

Tony turns his gaze slowly at the Bakugou boy, who had been quietly listening in with a slight horrified expression on his face. The boy’s eyes meet his, and Tony curves the edge of his lips into a half-smile just only for the other boy to see.

 

“Especially to someone whose nothing but a poor, defenseless, _quirkless_ , boy.”

 

He still doesn’t know what ‘quirkless’ means, but the word leaves a horrendous taste in his mouth and hangs solemnly inside the room like a dark, ominous cloud. It’s deathly silent, and the two adults turn to look at one another for a very long minute, before settling their unblinking gazes down onto the Bakugou boy.

 

 _Well, what do you know?_ Tony chuckles quietly as he watches the boy bristle sharply at their look. _Porcupine’s living up to his namesake._

 

 

 

Their parents arrive soon after.

 

Like a tornado bent purely on destruction, Porcupine’s mother bursts into the room, barely containing the absolute rage on her face as she sets her sights onto Porcupine. A loud smack on the head and several snarky words as way of greeting, the two starts bickering and snarling at each other like rabid dogs while everybody else inside watches on as unwilling bystanders.

 

 _It’s eerie_ , Tony muses, blinking slowly as he stares on, just how much the two resembles the other; right down to the red eyes that seemed to alight bright with burning rage and straight to the spikes of blonde hair that juts out sharply from their heads.

 

Another person steps in; a man wearing a tired, exasperated frown on his face as he makes his way over to try and stop the pair from killing each other.

 

“Mitsuki, honey,” he soothes in a low voice, “please don’t make a scene.”

 

The woman pauses in her mission of squeezing the ever-loving crap out of her son’s cheeks to toss the man a chilling glare, causing him to wilt instantly and fumble out a quick apology.

 

“I’m teaching _our_ brat a lesson.”

 

Suffice to say, more yelling occurs, and the room becomes a chaotic mess of harsh words and loud accusations.

 

“Uhm, excuse me?” A shaky voice drifts in from outside, cutting through the noise, and everyone momentarily stops what they’re doing to all shift their eyes at once towards the door. Tony stills, feeling the air knocked out from his lungs as he slowly turns around.

 

_Mom._

 

She lingers by the doorway, work outfit in a crumpled mess as if she ran all the way down here, and there’s tears pooling by the corners of her eyes as the woman looks frantically inside. Dark green eyes land onto Tony and a fresh wave of tears stream down the woman’s face as she all but launches herself onto him; gripping him tight as embraces him into a hug that smells too much like instant coffee and ink.

 

“Sweetie! Izuku!” she sobs, “Are you alright?”

 

Tony doesn’t reply back, instead wrapping his arms around the woman to bury his head onto her chest. He shakes his head. _Not really._

“Ms. Midoriya,” Tony angles his head a bit to find the Principal peering at them through his thick brows; pity seeped deep inside light blue eyes. “It is a pleasure to meet you, though not at better circumstances. Please,” he then gestures to a set of empty seats nearby, “take a seat and we’ll inform you about what has transpired and discuss the best course of action to deal with it.”

 

The woman’s hold on him tightens, and Tony can spot a flash of unspoken wrath in her eyes before she relents, letting go, but keeping a steady arm around Tony’s shoulders. She takes a deep breathe, flickering her gaze onto Porcupine and his parents before nodding.

 

 “Alright.”

 

 

 

By the time Tony finishes retelling his sob story, the woman’s grip is shaky, and her lips are pressed firmly into a thin solid line. Her eyes fixate onto the burn on his shoulder, and her expression morphs into a worryingly mix of anger lace hard with deep regret and sorrow.

 

Tony frowns.

 

The heavy, uncomfortable silence that followed from his words is broken by the sickening sound of a powerful smack.

 

“You damn brat!” Porcupine’s mother snarls, mouth twisted to a disappointed frown. “Why the hell did you do that for?” Porcupine’s father looks on from the side, worriedness etch around his face as he brings up a hand to placate his wife from striking again.

 

“It was an accident!” Porcupine protests, viciously rubbing his cheek where a red-hot handprint throbs around the area. Tony winces; _that’s gotta hurt_. “I swear!”

 

Before the two can divulge again into another round of yelling, a sudden, sharp cough brings everyone’s attention onto the Principal. His expression is grim as he addresses everyone in the room with a silent, serious gaze.

 

He leans forwards in the seat, lacing his hands together. “What’s done is done. What matters next is finding an _answer_ to this problem.” The Principal then pauses, letting the words sink in.

 

Light red eyes growing wide, the anger on the woman’s face melts away into quiet apprehension. She falters in her domineering posture, taking a step back to dart her eyes between Porcupine and the Principal.

 

“Are you suggesting, _expulsion_?”

 

The word hangs razor-sharp in the air like a sour note from someone’s messed up piano recital, and its almost as if everyone had collectively held their breathe, the room far too quiet for Tony’s liking.

 

Sighing, the Principal slowly strokes through a long length of his thick brows before tipping his chair backwards. “Perhaps…” he finally answers.

 

The boy curses; a rare glimpse of pure, raw fear undulating across his face in waves. Red eyes bulge wide in shock, and the Porcupine looks close to exploding in a fit of emotions.

 

“Of course, I believe I shouldn’t be the one to suggest that,” the Principal continues and turns his head to Tony. Tony meets the man’s heavy gaze head on, unwavering.

 

“Tell me, Midoriya, my boy,” the Principal says after staring at him for a moment, light blue eyes twinkling under the room light, “would you prefer Bakugou to be expelled?”

 

All eyes swivel straight onto him, and Tony blinks several times, surprised at the suggestion.

 

He feels the woman squeeze his shoulder and looks up to see her expression somber, dark green eyes glistened with unshed tears but there’s a hidden current of _something_ nestled deep inside, and Tony’s not sure what it is, but he has a good feeling that whatever chose he makes, she’ll support it 100%.

 

It brings a flurry of warmth inside his chest, knowing that.

 

He shifts his gaze onto Porcupine, who stares mulishly down onto the floor. The boy’s hands are clenched tight around the bottom of his seat, the corners of his eyes prick with small tears with lips trembling spastically as he waits for a response.

 

Tony carefully studies the boy’s reaction; no longer is Porcupine a bully, losing all of his composure and confidence in one sitting, but is now a scared, little boy whose future Tony holds in the palm of his hand.

 

In one word, he can end this kid’s whole career.

 

A memory trickles in, one that seems so long ago, but feels too recent and new. It’s of him and the boy, walking together in the afternoon sunlight, laughing and chatting about something. They’re much younger in this memory, Porcupine’s cheeks are chubby, and Tony’s voice sounds high pitch for a kid.

 

Both of them were each holding a card containing a glittering, shiny picture of All Might; the pair sporting matching grins as they brought the two cards close together.

 

 

_“Kacchan! We got the same card!” Tony can hear himself say. “That means we’re going to be hero buddies!”_

_Kacchan looks back with a smirk, red eyes ablaze with excitement. He laughs, bright like firecrackers and slings an arm around Tony’s neck; the sweet scent of caramel reaching his nostrils._

_“Just make sure you can keep up with me, nerd.”_

 

The memory fades, and Tony chews on the edge of his mouth. Were the two friends before?

 

Turning his eyes back onto the principal, who patiently waits for his response, Tony swallows. He makes a decision and opens up his mouth. 

 

"Let me think about it. But therapy sounds good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--- Omake---
> 
>  
> 
> _Tony goes to sleep, wakes up in the dreamworld to find Izuku looming over him with a serious expression on his cute, chubby face._
> 
>  
> 
> _Quietly hands Tony a snickers bar._
> 
>  
> 
> _Tony stares down at it, blinking before looking back at the boy._
> 
>  
> 
> _Izuku simply shakes his head, and pats Tony on the shoulder._
> 
>  
> 
> _"You're not you when you're hungry, Mr. Stark."_
> 
>  
> 
> The end.


	8. Harsh truths and sweet little lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is a hard, bitter pill to swallow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, update here.  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for the Kudos, comments, and bookmarks. _(Almost up to 2k kudos! Wow!)_
> 
> Just remember that I'm new to writing fanfics, and this is technically my first story ever that I posted online. So I'm just going with the flow and let the story take control of its narrative. So please understand that when reading. This is my story, and a story I want to have fun writing. Thanks.
> 
> Anyway, feel free to comment!
> 
> (´・ω・｀)  
> \---------------

“I’m a terrible mother,” is the first thing the woman says to Tony when they finally arrive back inside their apartment.

 

Tony blinks, halfway from taking off a shoe and balancing precariously on the wall with one hand and snaps his head up to look at her.

 

The woman’s not looking at him, instead staring straight at the nursing school pamphlet a lovely hospital nurse had given to her after helping retrieve several items with her quirk. It shakes in her trembling hand, and the woman’s lips tilts downwards into a sharp frown; staring hard at the pamphlet as if it had personally offended her.

 

Observing her for a moment, Tony softly says, “T—that’s’ not true…”

 

“I am,” the woman laments, unconvinced, shuffling her way through the living room slowly and sinking down in a slump onto the couch. Her long green hair covers most of her face from him, and the woman’s body wrecks sporadically with silent sobs. Tony’s heart painfully contorts itself at the pitiful sight, feeling himself gravitate to seat down next to her.

 

He tentatively reaches out a hand, gently placing it upon her shoulder. “You’re not,” Tony insists.

 

She shakes her head vigorously, pulling herself away from his touch, and the abruptness of it causes Tony’s heart to shatter into a thousand pieces. But he doesn’t get to process his hurt when a pair of warm hands cup his cheeks and he’s forced to look deep into a sea of dark green eyes.

 

The woman stares at him for a seemingly endless, long heartbeat, quietly searching for something in his eyes and Tony holds his breath; wondering what she could possibly find. Eventually, the woman lets out a shaky breath through her nose and presses her forehead upon his own to close her eyes.

 

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” she whispers, and tears are silently streaming down her face. “I’m so, so sorry. That I wasn’t a better mother to you. That I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have. That I let myself get caught up with everything and ignored all the warning signs.”

 

She opens up her eyes and looks off to the side, her expression turning somber. Tony stills, head remaining locked in position between the woman’s sturdy hands. He doesn’t like this one bit, never being good at handling other people’s emotions. But he wants to try at least, for the woman’s sake and perhaps, for his own.

 

“I knew.”

 

The woman’s eyes briefly flicker to his own before looking away again as she starts, voice barely above a murmur like she’s telling him a terrible, dark secret. Tony remains silent, hearing his heartbeat pound thunderously against his eardrums as he waits.

 

Another tense pause, and the woman continues on, mumbling her words down to the floor and bright green eyes dimming to a dull murky hue as she then looks at something far off into the distance behind his shoulder.

 

“I knew,” she repeats. “I knew something was wrong, that you weren’t as happy as you use to be. But I figured that you’ll tell me eventually and until then I’ll just show you my support from the sidelines.” Her expression suddenly morphs into one of stark rage, biting down hard onto the bottom of her lips that Tony is afraid she’ll draw blood. “But that was very _stupid_ of me to assume.”

 

As quickly as it had appeared, the anger dissipates away from the woman’s face, leaving behind a crestfallen, broken look. The woman sighs, “I knew you and Bakugou haven’t been getting along properly ever since your… ‘diagnosis’, but I had never imagined it would be this bad. He was always a little rough, due to his quirk and Mitsuki’s upbringing, but to actively _hurt_ you?”

 

Green eyes grow frantically wide and she brings her owlish gaze back on to him, cupping his cheeks more firmly. “D-did he always do that, Izuku? Was Bakugou bullying you for this long, and I was just too blind to see it? When you two were out playing games in the park, and you would come back home with bruises and cuts, you’d always tell me not to worry and insists it was just roughhousing. Were you really telling me everything, Izuku?” The pitch of her voice notches an octave higher than normal, and she pauses, taking large gasps of air into her mouth.

 

She then sniffles, her eyes wet as she stares deep into Tony’s eyes. “Is it true?”

 

Everything around him fades into nothingness as Tony meets the woman’s unyielding gaze; pools of shimmering green eyes holding his attention and taking the air right out from his lungs.

 

What can he say?

 

A lie tries to form at the edge of his tongue, a sweet one that might pacify the woman’s plight, but memories of a distant past starts to pop like bubbles inside his head. It’s of his childhood, all laid out before him like a lengthy piece of stringy rope, and he can see each memory in crystal clear clarity.

 

And Tony _hates_ what he sees.

 

His—Izuku’s—childhood was _terrible_ ; marred by too many fights between his parents witnessed by innocent eyes, of hearing jeers and taunts from smirking classmates and fellow peers of how useless he was as a quirkless boy, of having his own father tell him that he won’t amount to anything without a quirk.

 

But the ones involving that Bakugou kid, are the absolute worst memories Tony ends up watching.

 

Tony observes them in his mind, passing fast in a blur and all the raw, intense emotions hitting him like a crashing ocean wave; sending him drowning in a sea of misery and hate.

 

And a crying whisper of a broken boy, _“Can I be a hero without a quirk?”,_ plays on in an endless mantra in the background.

 

A flash of hot anger spills out into his body, heating up fast and twisting around like a flickering flame from a recently lit candle. Tony can’t help but wonder: why didn’t Izuku mention any of this to him?

 

Swallowing the half-formed fib down into the back of his throat, Tony closes his eyes for a brief second. He can’t lie to the woman; she doesn’t deserve that at all. Not after everything that has happened since he woke up in this strange, but very interesting world. He opens them back up, steadily meeting the woman’s pleading eyes and nods.

 

“Yes,” he quietly answers back.

 

The word lingers sharply in the blistering silence, and the woman stares for another long heartbeat before her expression cracks and a horrible cry escapes her lips. She shakes her head viciously, a flood of tears cascading down her rosy face. It hurts Tony too much to see her like this.

 

The woman pulls him close onto her chest, burying her face onto his fluffy hair. “I’m sorry,” her voice muffles out from above. “I’m sorry.”

 

Tony simply wraps his arms around her, letting the aroma of honeydew coming off from the woman’s body ease his aching heart.

 

 _I know_ , Tony whispers to himself. _I know._

 

 

 

Tony enters the bedroom with a quiet sigh.

 

His shoulder still aches horribly despite the hospital’s nurse treatment on his burn, and Tony gently removes his shirt, hissing a bit as the fabric scrapes past the wound. He tosses the shirt off to the side, hearing it land lightly somewhere on the floor. Under the dim moonlight beaming down through his window, he can make out part of the gauze that covered most of his right shoulder. The nurse had mentioned it would take at least a few days before the pain would wear off, and then the burn would scar leaving behind an ugly pink imprint of a hand on top of his right shoulder.

 

Tony grimaces. He’s going to have to make it up to Izuku. Like a lot.

 

Shuffling his way to the bed, he back- flips onto the cover, tangling himself in a pile of bed sheets and blankets. He reaches for a pillow to rest his head upon, the last conversation he had with the woman currently replaying inside his mind on an endless loop.

 

 

 

_“Promise me something, Izuku.”_

_Tony pulls himself slightly away from the woman’s comforting embrace, tilting his head upwards to meet her gaze with a questioning look on his face._

_The woman hiccups, keeping her grip tight on him as she stares quietly at him; dark green eyes shimmering underneath large pools of crystal blue tears._

_“Promise me,” she breathes out, keeping her voice steady despite the tremors rocking throughout her body, down her arms and straight to the fingers nestled gently on top of Tony’s skin. “That if something is truly bothering you, you’ll tell me. Don’t be afraid to keep everything to yourself. Don’t—”_

_She takes a gasp of air, a fresh wave of tears down her cheeks. “Don’t let it eat you up inside. Know I’ll always support you no matter what, and I will absolutely do my hardest to be the best mom I could possibly be.” Her body shakes with silent sobs, “Promise me that, Izuku. Please.”_

_Tony can feel his breath lock up inside his throat. This was his chance, to tell her who he really is and figure out a way to solve his strange predicament. But…_

_Swallowing, Tony nods._

_“I promise.”_

 

Yawning, Tony shifts his head onto a different position on the pillow _. I’m sorry_ , he thinks, _I can’t tell you everything just yet._

 

He closes his eyes and lets himself drift into slumber.

 

 

 

A splash of water wakes him right up.

 

Tony bolts straight upright from his prone position, sputtering out incoherently as saltwater stings his eyes.

 

“Why did you do that, Mr. Stark!” an annoyed voice rings out from somewhere close by.

 

Vigorously wiping his eyes, Tony meets the angry, chubby face of one Izuku Midoriya. The boy is standing over him, clutching a bucket of ocean water between his fingers and giving Tony a heated glare that reminds him eerily of the Porcupine brat.

 

Tony gets another splash of water in return for waiting too long to answer Izuku’s question, and he growls, rubbing his eyes some more and getting sand all over his face.

 

“The heck you’re doing that for, Kid!” Tony yells out, once his vision sort of clears. He quickly stands up to loom over Izuku.

 

The boy stubbornly meets his gaze, tilting his head up in a form of obvious defiance. Izuku pouts. “You punched Kacchan!”

 

 _Oh_ , Tony blinks, then narrows his eyes. “You mean Porcupine?”

 

A scandalized squeak leaves Izuku’s mouth, and the boy makes a move to gather up more ocean water. “He’s not Porcupine,” the boy answers roughly, tossing the bucket of water on Tony, who narrowly avoids it, “He’s _Kacchan_ , and he’s my best friend!”

 

Tony snorts, an ugly, loud one that makes Izuku pout even more. “Kid, I’m going to level something here with you. That brat you call “friend”, is a frenemy at best and a glorified bully at worst. Not the kind of person who you want hanging around.”

 

 _Trust me, I know_ , Tony silently doesn’t add in.

 

The boy grumbles at his words, mouth pulled down into a large frown, and starts scooping his bucket through the ocean again.

 

The sun hangs high above them, sending yellow rays of heat that burns lightly against Tony’s skin. He squints against the harsh sunlight, trying to pinpoint where exactly he is, and barely dodges the next wave of water aimed straight at his face.

 

“Would you quit it, Kid?” Tony growls in a low voice, feeling his blood pressure rise within each second. Here he is, wanting to treat the boy for getting them hurt and all Izuku wants to do is drown him for punching a boy who just needed a good spanking or two.

 

Though Tony won’t deny he’d do it all again if given the chance.

 

“No!” the boy cries out, getting more water, and Tony finally has enough. Reaching over, he scoops the bewildered boy off from the water and into his arms, ignoring the boy’s howls of protests and tiny hands trying to jab at his face. Dragging the two of them more into the shoreline, Tony dumps Izuku right in front of him onto the white, sparkly sand and keeps a steady, firm hand on top of the boy’s shoulder.

 

“What about now?” Tony asks with a small, playful smirk.

 

Izuku doesn’t reply back, instead staring straight down at the sand, mossy curly hair covering most of his face. A sniffle catches his ears, and Tony’s smirk disappears, a concerned frown replacing it. He leans in close.

 

 “Kid?”

 

Another sniffle, and the boy peers up at Tony through the curls of his hair, large wads of tears dripping down his face.

 

 _“Why?”_ Izuku bawls out, and then begins to cry. Loudly.

 

Tony stares wide eye, a bit lost on what to do, before something almost akin to parental instinct kicks in. He gently pulls the boy close to him, letting Izuku cry onto his shirt, making it messy with snot and tears. He starts rubbing small circles onto the boy’s back; the motions a vague, familiar one he remembers doing to a crying Morgan long, long ago.

 

Tiny, chubby hands grip tight onto his shirt, and Izuku buries his head onto the crook of Tony’s neck. Loud hiccups wreck through the boy’s body before eventually calming down to quiet sniffles.

 

He waits for Izuku to stop sniffling, before speaking. “I’m sorry, Kid. Didn’t really mean to punch Porcupine.” It was a lie of course; Tony wouldn’t hesitate to do it again but keeps that particular secret to himself. Izuku wouldn’t like it.

 

Sighing through his nose, Tony uses his free hand to comb through the boy’s curly locks. “It’s just…I don’t like people who feel like they can bully others they consider _weak_.” Tony spats out the word, hating everything associated with it. “That Porcupine brat needed to be knocked down a peg or two off his high horse, and I wasn’t going to let him hurt you. _Us_.” He corrects after a moment of thinking.

 

Izuku remains terribly silently.

 

Tony tilts his head down, looking past Izuku’s hair to try to meet the boy’s eyes. “Does this always happen, Kid? Do you let the brat push you around and just take it? Never saying a word to anybody? Not even your mom?”

 

The boy audibly gasps, as if realizing something horrible.  He pulls his head away from Tony’s neck, guilt spreading rapidly across his face. “I made mommy cry,” he half-whispers, tears pooling the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to make her sad.”

 

“Hey,” Tony soothes, in an effort to stop the waterworks from happening again. “She’s not sad. Just a little…upset that she didn’t notice everything that’s been happening to you.”

 

The conversation he had with the woman was still fresh in his mind, and Tony swallowed a dry gulp. He shrugged it off and gave Izuku an easy-going grin.

 

“Besides, we told her now. She knows what’s going on and will do her best to make sure it won’t happen again. As long as we let her know what’s bothering us, of course,” Tony adds in softly, then continues. “That’s a good thing, right, Kid?”

 

The boy sniffles, nodding quietly as he wipes his face onto Tony’s shirt; Tony tries not to grimace at being used as a tissue. Several beats of comfortable silence follow afterwards, the boy leaning against Tony’s chest while Tony looks out into the ocean; watching waves that almost seem to sparkle under the sunlight lap the shoreline.

 

Then, “But you didn’t have to punch, Kacchan,” Izuku finally says. Repressing an exasperated sigh, Tony figures he’ll let the boy scold him for the reckless action. “And you almost got him expelled!”

 

Izuku then shoots Tony a look, and it’s quite amusing seeing a serious sort of expression on such a chubby, cute face.

 

“If Kacchan got expelled then he won’t be able to become a hero! And he’s really good at being a hero cuz’ he has such an amazing, awesome quirk that's _super_ strong and can do so many cool things, and…” The boy suddenly pauses, expression downcast, and kneads his hands nervously on the hem of Tony’s shirt.

 

“And…Kacchan can do pretty much do everything I can’t do…” Izuku quietly finishes; the words carrying down the shoreline and into the passing breeze.

 

Frowning, Tony looks down at the boy. “Like be a hero?” he asks.

 

Izuku flinches, green eyes widening astronomically wide, before closing. The boy then demurely nods his head in agreement.

 

“That’s bullshit.”

 

The boy’s mouth jolts wide open; whether at Tony’s comment or curse, he wouldn’t know, but Tony barrels on with his speech. “Look, a hero can be anyone, so long as they got the heart for it and the determination to follow it through. Not everyone’s cut out for it. Sure I was pretty terrible when I first started out, but I quickly got the hang of it. Just need to keep trying and learning from your mistakes.”

 

Izuku is silent, entranced by his words and hanging on tight to Tony with wide, bright eyes full of wonder.

 

 “And if that Porcupine brat is supposed to be a good representation on how a hero should be, then I gotta say Kid, your society needs some fixing.” Tony stops, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. He’s not sure how to end his little speech, so he goes with the next best thing he used to hear Peter often quote during their Avenger team ups.  

 

He meets Izuku’s eyes and offers a dazzling grin that rivals the sun. “Don’t let your dreams be dreams. Or something like that…”

 

A strange kind of quiet quickly envelopes the two after Tony finishes, and he chews on his lips, wondering if he said the right thing. Izuku stares up at him for a long, long time, green eyes wide and expression uncharacteristically undecipherable to Tony.

 

Another moment passes, and the boy looks away, expression now sullen.

 

Izuku sighs, “I want to really believe you, Mr. Stark.” Tony’s heart twist as he dreads what’s coming next. “But--." 

 

“But, what, Kid?” Tony questions.

 

Silence again, heavy and full of something deep that reminds Tony of regret and lost chances, and Izuku’s face takes on a calm look, as if resigning himself to a fate predetermined to him from the universe.

 

 “Because,” Izuku answers quietly, voice too low that Tony strains to catch every word.

 

_“Because quirkless people can’t be heroes.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‐---Omake‐---  
>  _Tony gently places a hand upon Izuku's shoulder; a bright, almost unnecessarily wide grin stretching far across his face._
> 
>  
> 
> _The boy blinks, confused at first, before sweating profusely when he finally takes in Tony's grin._
> 
>  
> 
> _"Kid," Tony says, all too cheerfully, "give me the name of each and every single person who had ever told you that, and I'll **personally** come to their homes and tell them why they are so wrong."_
> 
>  
> 
> _Vigorously shaking his head no, Izuku frowns. "Mr. Stark, please don't hurt Kacchan."_
> 
>  
> 
> _Tony's grin widens considerably more._
> 
>  
> 
> _"Can't make any promises, Kid."_
> 
>  
> 
> The end.


	9. Not so simple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life was never easy for Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Update here!
> 
> Hope you guys are enjoying the holidays!
> 
> Here's a new chapter, a bit short, but packed with a lot of feelings just in time for Christmas! Since the holidays are here, I'm going to be focusing more on spending time with my family/friends, plus prepping for a new school semester, so expect sporadic updates for this story. I don't have a concrete schedule, and just upload whenever its possible, so hope you guys can understand that. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy and feel free to comment!
> 
>  
> 
> _Also, thank you soooo much for helping this fic reach over 2000 kudos!!!! That's amazing! <3 _
> 
>  
> 
> (◕ᥲ ◕✿)  
> \----------

Taking a very long second to inhale deeply into his nose, Tony clasps both his together to then rest lightly against the tip of his jawline. He takes another second more to give Izuku a _look_ , that screams _‘what the hell did you just say?’_ before exhaling out sharply, leaning forwards to point his hands down at the young child.

 

“ _Boi_ ,” is all he says.

 

The brows on Izuku’s face immediately knit over green eyes, and the boy tilts his head, confusion spreading fast over his adorable, chubby face.

 

“Mr. Sta—?”

 

“Look kid,” Tony cuts him off, instantly feeling bad for doing so. Softening his expression, Tony offers Izuku a small, gentle smile. “You do know who you’re talking to right?” He waits for the young boy to process his question, before continuing. “Because you’re talking to _me_ ; billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…”

 

The boy stares back at him, confusion still evidently on his face and Tony muffles up a sigh coming through with a pinch of his nose.

 

“Alright, how about this? You said I’m a hero, right?” Izuku nods his head slowly but firmly. “Then according to your world, I shouldn’t even _be_ a hero, because I don’t have a quote unquote ‘ _quirk.’_ ” Tony bends his fingers to emphasize the word. “But we all know that’s bull— _er_ … not true. I fought alongside Captain _freaking_ America, and went toe to toe with the Hulk, I think I can say I’m just as much as a hero as those guys. So what makes you any different?”

 

Izuku turns quiet, biting down hard at the bottom of his lip thoughtfully as he considers Tony’s words. A flicker of hope passes through the boy’s face only to be squashed in another second, leaving behind a crestfallen expression that rest heavily on top of Izuku’s eyes; making him appear older underneath the bright sunlight.

 

Shaking his head, “Mr. Stark,” Izuku begins with a defeated sigh, and it takes all of Tony’s patience to not just grab the boy’s shoulders and roughly shake him out of his gloom and doom. “I’m not _awesome_ like you are. I’m not super smart too, nor super rich, or even really likable.” The boy then pulls his small legs up close to his body, curling in on himself as if to hide away from the harsh reality of his words.

 

“I’m just _Deku_. Useless, stupid, quirkless Deku.”

 

It absolutely breaks Tony’s heart just seeing the boy like this, all too small, unnaturally quiet and just so god-damn miserable, and reaches out a hand to wrap around the boy’s back. Silent tremors wreck beneath the pads of his fingers. He misses the bright, chatty boy he had meet a few days ago; the one whose smile rivals that of the sun and Tony is willing to do anything to bring that back.

 

Pulling the boy back close to him, Tony opens his mouth to speak when Izuku suddenly snaps his head up at him, watery green eyes fat with clear blue tears pooling high around the corners and the words Tony wants to say die in an instant.

 

“B—but I really want to be _one_ ,” Izuku chokes out, the tears now sliding down his cheeks. “I really wanna be a hero!”

 

He can’t say anything, and Tony _wants_ to say something, but there’s a weird tugging sensation he begins to feel, like a fishhook had somehow lodged itself way deep inside his body and it _pulls_. The once calm sea breeze starts to pick up, twisting and turning into something scary and rough, whipping white specks of sands all over his face and the warm sky grows dark. Tony shields his eyes, trying to make out Izuku in the strange, sudden sandstorm.

 

“Kid!” he yells out, but the words get lost into the ferocious storm. The tugging sensation increases, and Tony finds himself being propelled backwards. _Away_ from Izuku.

 

He tries again, loud as he can to no avail. The boy seems immune to the whirling sandstorm; cradling his head back into his arms, mosey, curly hair tossing wildly to-and-fro with the roaring winds.

 

Tony yells one more time, but the tugging sensation sharpens, the world around him bends, and within a blink of an eye, he’s awake, jostling upwards in his bed and clutching the covers tightly with a shaky fist.

 

“Ack! Izuku!”

 

Tony turns sharply to his side, finding himself staring straight into a pool of dark green eyes, and for a hopeful moment, he thinks it’s Izuku. Until the person pulls back away slightly from him to reveal rosy freckled cheeks, and thick strands of long green hair cupping around it, that he realizes it’s someone else.

 

 _Oh_. Blinking rapidly, breathing in and out to ease his rapidly beating heart. It’s _mom_.

 

She stares at him worriedly for a few seconds, gnawing at the edge of her lips before leaning in slowly to him, pressing a hand gently on his cheek. “Did you have a bad dream, sweetie?” she asks, her brows furrowing deep in concern and it sets Tony’s heart pumping faster than even before.

 

“Sort of, but I’m alright now,” he replies back casually enough, and tries giving her an easy-going smile that just makes the woman furrow her brows even more at him.

 

She hums, lightly thumbing over his cheek, before pulling her hand away. The woman then fiddles with the hem of her shirt, hesitation bleeding all over into her posture. “Was it…about what happened yesterday at school?” she questions Tony quietly, pleading dark green eyes looking deep into his own.

 

The conversation he had with her yesterday replayed again in his mind and Tony tilted forward, resting his hand lightly over the woman’s other hand currently lying on top of his bed covers.

 

“It was,” he answers truthfully, because he promised to never lie to her ever again. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “But, I’m okay for now. Honestly.”

 

Tony then looks down, noting how small his fingers are compared to the woman’s, and thinks of Izuku, all lost and utterly sad in that dream. His heart twists painfully at the thought.

 

_“Quirkless people can’t be heroes.”_

 

He swallows down the frustrated sigh threatening to leave his mouth and meets the woman’s silent gaze head-on with a grin that feels more like a grimace on his face. “There’s just something I have to figure out inside my head. But, I’ll make sure to tell you all about it soon enough— _promise_.” Tony even makes a bit of a show of crossing his index fingers together with his other hand that earns him a small giggle from the woman.

 

Her expression remains fret with worry though, the creases on her forehead increasing the more she stares at him. Eventually she looks away, letting out a breath that deflates her body to the point that she’s resting her forehead onto his. The strands of her hair tickles his nose and brings in a pleasant aroma of honeydew.

 

“Alright, sweetie,” she mummers, closing her eyes. “Just know I’m here whenever you need to talk.”

 

Tony swallows, finding it hard to breathe at that very moment.

 

She leans back, opening her eyes again; a small, warm smile breaking out across her face. “I made some breakfast, if you’re ready to eat now. I was thinking of leaving work early to make you your favorite Katsudon for dinner, what do you think, Izuku?”

 

The adorable image of a little Izuku eating delicious Katsudon, chatting away amicably with his mother causes Tony’s heart to somersault straight into a pit of pure, gooey happiness.

 

He matches her smile. “Sure, I’d love that.”

 

 

 

 

After a very delicious and (large) meal courtesy of the woman, Tony finds himself back in his room, lying face down on the bed, mind whirling a mile a minute.

 

He has a lot of free time to kill for the next couple of days; the Principal having decided to “suspend” him and Porcupine for the reminder of the school week for their impromptu fight. Of course, in Tony’s case he knows this was more of a guise to just let him rest and recuperate from his injury than a punishment, and he can’t even feel salty over it.

 

Sighing, he checks on how the burn wound is doing; pulling up his sleeve a bit to reveal the white, patchy gauze contrasting harshly against tan skin. A flicker of red-hot angry comes through as Tony stares down at the wound, wishing he did more than just break Porcupine’s nose.

 

 _Best friend_ , Tony muses, a wry smile stretching his lips as he recalls Izuku’s words. Best friend his _ass_.

 

That brat is a menace to everyone around him and needs to spend his days locked up in a mental institution till he learns how to be a proper functional being in society.

 

At least he had landed a good blow on the kid. Despite Izuku’s protests, Tony has no regrets; he’d do it all again, just for Izuku.

 

Pushing himself off the bed, Tony pads his way out his room and down the hallway, entering the study room on his left. He’s relived to find that his notes are still on the table, stacked neatly on top of one another and untouched. Flipping through them, a frown start to twist around Tony’s mouth.

 

He had a good idea now of this strange, new world he had been woken up too; one where heroes were a normal and commonplace profession much like police officers or firefighters.

 

It was unthinkable back in his previous life, believing that the world could handle more than a couple of PTSD induced, stressed out ragtag of super-powered freaks, and Tony was inclined to believe that at first. After-all, he had bared witnessed firsthand the devastating powers one person could have on a whole country, let alone the entire world. And was forced as unwilling participant to help stop the world from ending one too many times.

 

Being a hero was a _thankless_ job in Tony’s honest opinion.

 

Vilified or revered depending on the mood of the public that day, he had dealt with his own rather large share of scorn and praises tossed at him for every single action he had undertook, leaving him exhausted as the years went by. By the time he had don on the infinity gauntlet, ready to sacrifice his life to stop a mad Titan from ending all of life as he knew it, a small part of Tony felt—well, rather glad to finally rest after fighting for so long.

 

But of course, life was never simple for him, and now he was stuck in another world where the very essence of lacking a “quirk” had already predetermined a boy’s path in life.

 

Tony snorts, placing his notes back on the table. As if he’s going to let _that_ happen.

 

 _Once a hero, always a hero_ , he surmises with a faint smile tugging his lips; settling himself down on the chair for a long, long session of scouring the Internet on the computer. He pulls out a fresh blank stack of note cards out from the drawer. The world may say he can’t be hero, but they never said he can’t _build_ one.

 

Using a pen, he writes down **‘Tony’s Absolutely Brilliant Ideas: Number# 1’** on the top of the first page.

 

The look on Izuku’s face is so going to be worth this.

 

Tony gets to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the dream world. 
> 
>    
>  _Tony quietly hands over a large stack of note cards to Izuku. He watches as the young boy blinks in confusion; riffling through the notes with green eyes growing wide in shock as he reads._
> 
>  
> 
>    
>  _The boy snaps his head up at Tony. "Mr. Stark?"_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Smiling wide, "Just some ideas I had, Kid," then ruffles the boy's unruly hair. "Just know I personally think you can be hero."_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> The end.


	10. Knock me down, and I'll simply get back up stronger than ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world just seems to like to keep knocking him down. Good thing, he's made of _iron._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Update here!
> 
> Is it too late to say Happy New Year? 
> 
> (I'm going to say it anyway)
> 
> So,  
> Happy New Year!  
> Hope you guys have a great first month of 2020 and accomplish any goals you have set out for yourself. (I know I am!)
> 
> Anyway, here's a new chapter for ya, a super long one too! I'm starting school at the moment, so chapters will be sporadic, but bear with me for now! 
> 
> And thank you guys so much for the Kudos, comments, and bookmarks! It still amazes that so many people want to read this silly story of mine and it makes my heart _swell_.
> 
> I am curious what you guys love overall about it, and how'd you found out about my story. Did you stumble across it by accident, or somebody recced it to you? I'm super curious. And also let me if there are some things that aren't exactly clear in the story or need to be worked on? 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment on what you liked about this chapter so far! 
> 
> (psst, anybody up to date with the manga? It's sooo good!) 
> 
> (´ ᴗ｀✿)  
> \-----------------------

“Are you going to be alright, sweetie?” the woman asks for the tenth time since the two of them had left their apartment.

 

Tony grips the straps of his backpack, ridiculously large and obnoxiously bright yellow, and breathes in the cool, morning air; inhaling a sharp scent of wet grass and earthy patches of soils. The sun is pleasantly warm against the back of his neck, with filtered sunlight peeking through thick wads of trees and tall, apartment complexes and bathing the streets in a hazy orange hue.

 

 _Today is a beautiful day_ , he muses; a perfect day to spend at home writing more notes about heroes in uncomfortably tight, spandex costumes, and certainly _not_ being in school. But a short phone call from the Principal asking Tony to stop by his office today to discuss some things dampens the current bright mood and Tony’s motivation to continue on with his work. He can feel his heart bump rapidly against his chest in anticipation for what might come.

 

Still, he manages a smile for the woman. “I think I’ll be fine.”

 

She stares back at him, expression oscillating between pure worriedness and mild disbelief, before settling onto an odd mixture of the two. Then pressed her lips together, fiddling with the hem of her white blouse.

 

“If you say so, sweetie,” she mumbles, averting her eyes away from his and sighing quietly.

 

Tony stops, letting an elderly couple who were walking closely behind pass him by, before turning to the woman. She stops a few paces away, confusion evident on her face as she waits for him to speak.

 

He opens his mouth, only to stop when a gaggle of school kids—wearing the same school uniform as him, pass by; the group slowing down almost to a standstill as they gawk and stare at him with wide eyes, whispering furiously to one another. Tony’s already sour mood plummets; he has a _very_ good idea as to what they might be talking about.

 

Tony sighs. _So much for going incognito_.

 

The group finally walks away, a few turning back to look at him over their shoulders before disappearing around a bend. Tony breathes out a sigh of relief, turning his attention back onto the woman. She’s staring straight at where the students were, frowning heavily and tightening the hold on her purse even more.

 

“Mom,” Tony says quietly, and the dark green eyes flicker over to him. He reaches out to squeeze her other hand. “It will be okay— _I’ll_ be okay,” he corrects, then swallows down a wave of emotions threatening to tide him over. “I’ll make sure to tell you everything that happens.”

 

“Promise?” she asks, a hint of worry lacing around her question.

 

Tony smiles—a small, bright one, giving her hand another squeeze. “Cross my heart and hope to die, pinky sort of promise.”

 

He gets a light chuckle and a playful tap on the shoulder for his words. The air feels a little bit airy and cheery at the moment, and Tony looks forward at the street with renew vigor.

 

 _I can do this_.

 

Tugging on the woman’s hand to beckon her forward, Tony takes a few steps away from her. “Come on, mom,” he says, keeping his voice light, “Let’s go, otherwise I’d be late for class.”

 

The woman nods her head, matching his smile with a small version of her own.

 

“Right.”

 

 

 

The moment Tony steps past the threshold of the school gate, all eyes land onto him.

 

 _Oh, for fuck sake, even the teachers are staring._ Tony gulps down the urge to turn around and run away and squares his shoulders up; plastering on his best _‘Don’t talk to me unless it’s serious’_ look over his face.

 

It at least greatly reduces the amount of people now currently looking at him, but Tony can _still_ feel eyes follow him down as he marches forward past the throngs of students and towards the school. He’s not sure what sort of half-baked story the teachers had ended up telling everyone or whatever Porcupine’s minions had spouted out, but Tony hopes that it at least painted a good picture of him.

 

The sudden ring of the school bell draws most of the attention away from him, and a horde of students start to hurry along inside; Tony joining in with the wave, his heart rate increasing with every step. He has to remain calm, though, despite the growing storm of anxiety threatening to spill out and drive him mad.

 

Honestly, though he had faced much worst before back in his old life. It was _almost_ child play.

 

But he had to remind himself that he wasn’t Tony Stark no longer. No, he was Izuku Midoriya now; a quirkless boy who dream to become a hero and Tony was going to do all he can to help.

 

For now, he holds back his fear and faces the unknown with a determined grin.

 

 

 

Entering the classroom, Tony is greeted to stunned silence and lively conversations cutting sharply mid-sentence. Too many curious sets of eyes fixate onto him, his classmates gawking as Tony mumbles a quiet ‘good morning’ before finding his seat by the window.  

 

Sighing, Tony tries not to let his discomfort show as he slowly unpacks his bag pack and sets about removing various school items to place onto his desk. Whispers and giggles fill the air around him, and he pointedly focuses on his task.

 

 _At least it’s Friday_ , Tony thinks _, I can relax for the whole weekend and forget about everything._

 

He picks up his notebook, the one containing a bunch of scribbled notes and diagrams for a new suit of armor that he might someday be able to build and begins to write. The teacher hasn’t arrived yet, so he has some time to kill for now. Might as well do something productive, Tony figures.

 

He doesn’t notice someone approaching his desk, until he hears a cough right in front of him. Tony looks up, halfway from writing down a set of equations, to find a boy standing quietly beside his desk. He looked rather plain, save for a pair of cat ears sticking out from a mess of brown, curly hair. Tony blinks, silently wondering what the boy wants from him.

 

A minute passes, and the boy shifts nervously from feet to feet.

 

“So…” he begins, cat ears flickering a bit. “Did you like, finally get your quirk or something?”

 

Tony knits his brows in confusion, not expecting such an odd question.

 

The boy continues, twirling a piece of his hair with a finger. “Cuz’ like, everyone here had heard how you had punched Bakugou in the face and broke his nose. And there’s like no way you could have done _that_ without a quirk,” he adds in, and quickly averts his eyes away when Tony keeps staring at him with a blank expression.

 

“So… did you?” the boy asks after Tony stays silent for a very, long agonizing minute.

 

It was only now that Tony realized just how quiet the room had become; a quick glance around confirmed his suspicion, noting how all his classmates’ ears have all perked up and how many were looking straight at him for any reaction.

 

It takes all of Tony’s inner strength to not grimace at the sight and he holds in his breath, counting backwards from ten inside his head.

 

“…No,” he finally grits out, hands instantly curling into fists underneath his desk. “I don’t have a quirk, I’m still… _quirkless_.”

 

 _God_ , does he hate that word.

 

The cat boy looks oddly disappointed by this, and several murmurs of disbelief ring out from all around the room, as well as a few well-aimed scoffs tossed in from the side. A smolder of angry rages in as Tony listens, but he remains steadfast in his seat. 

 

“ _And_ ,” Tony continues, raising his voice slightly to address everybody in the classroom, “the reason as to why I had punched Porcupine was because he was a _bully_. Simple as that. He got away with hurting people for way too long and that’s why…” Tony stops, looking directly at the cat boy who stares back in shock.

 

Tony then takes a deep breath, remembering Izuku’s sorrowful expression as the little boy expressed his dismay at not being able to become a hero. _I’m sorry, kid, that nobody had bothered to help, and you had to suffer for so long._

_Not anymore though._

 

“... I’m not going to stand for that,” he ends quietly, averting his gaze down onto his notebook. “I’m not, and neither should you guys too.”

 

Based on his prior knowledge of bullies, Tony knows for sure that they could never just have _one_ victim to antagonize on.

                                                                                                                     

His words hung over the air, raw with a heavy sense of sadness that makes the room deathly silent and classmates nervously glancing at one another and to him. The cat boy’s face goes through a wide range of emotions, before settling onto something way too close to pity that makes Tony feel slightly uncomfortable. The cat boy then moves his mouth to speak only to be interrupted from the sound of the classroom door slamming wide open.

 

In strolls Porcupine, head held up high and a scowl plastered firmly around his face; his nose still covered under a series of white gauze and bandages. The scowl deepens as the boy looks around, eying his silent classmates with a mild look of trepidation, while clutching a hand too tightly around the straps of his backpack. Dark red eyes zero in onto Tony, and Porcupine’s expression sours. He looks ready to say something but thinks better of it and briskly heads over to his desk; the students parting before him in fear of being on the receiving end of his wrath.

 

Tony watches him go, feeling a cascade of emotions crashing down onto him, sending his mind deep in turmoil.

 

 _“…Kacchan can do pretty much everything I can’t do…”_ Izuku’s voice whispers into his ears, all sad and broken. Tony’s mouth twist angrily down into a frown.

 

Before he can do anything—well, _reckless_ —the teacher walks in; sweeping across the room like a dark, looming figure. Equally dark eyes narrow sharply the instant he stands by his desk, and the room is a chaotic mess as students hurry to their seats.

 

The teacher then takes that moment to sweep his gaze over the room, briefly meeting Tony’s eyes for an uncomfortable, long beat, before looking away.

 

“…I see that you all have chosen to arrive on time for once,” he drawls, skipping the usual morning greetings and routine. “We will be continuing on the topic of the Kerb Cycle. Get your textbook out and turn to page _three hundred and ninety-four_.”

 

The sound of backpacks opening, and pencils being sharpened fills the air, and Tony retrieves his own textbook out from his bag. He stares sullenly down at the book, listening to the teacher drone on about plants and other such topics in a monotone voice. Tony barely pays any attention; he had learned these things decades before and there’s no need for him to relearn them again.

 

So, he lets his mind wander.

 

The sound of someone knocking at the classroom door an hour later, jars Tony out from his thinking. The teacher stops, eyeing the door with utter disdain before making his way over to open it. There’s the sound of someone speaking, and a few seconds later the teacher turns; a thin frown present over his lips.

 

“Mr. Midoriya,” Tony’s head snaps up to find the teacher addressing him, “your presence is needed in the Principal’s office.”

 

A murmur of excitement ripples though the classroom and the harsh look the teacher gives instantly quiets it down.

 

Tony gets up, leaving his things behind and heads over to the front of the room, ignoring the stares that follow. He passes by Porcupine’s desk, the boy’s eyes pointedly staring down at his textbook, but there’s a sharp grimace visible over his face, and Tony can hardly bring himself to care.

 

 _You reap what you sow_ , he thinks, reaching the door, and finding an older student waiting for him outside. The student gestures for him to follow, and Tony walks, feeling the heavy, piercing weight of his teacher’s stare and everyone else in his class on his back as he leaves.

 

The walk to the Principal’s office is a short trip but felt incredibly long inside Tony’s head as he walks alongside the student down the thankfully empty hallways. He looks straight ahead, but he can see the student glancing occasionally down at him with an unreadable expression through his peripheral view. Eventually they arrive at a door, and the student knocks before opening it.

 

“Principal Sasaki? Midoriya is here,” the student says, stepping aside to let Tony enter.

 

The principal looks up from his paper works, blue eyes twinkling bright underneath a mountain of eyebrows.

 

“Ah yes! Come in, come in.” He gestures Tony to take a seat. “Thank you,” the Principal then tells the student, and they take their leave, closing the door as quietly as possible behind them. Silence falls through quickly, and Tony shifts uncomfortably in his chair, keeping his expression neutral as to not betray any emotions.

 

The last time he had been here, it wasn’t pleasant.

 

As if sensing Tony’s discomfort, the Principal finishes scribbling something down before dropping the pen in favor of lacing his fingers together to rest neatly on top of the desk. Calculated blue eyes stare down at him, and Tony holds fast onto that gaze, refusing to be the first to budge.

 

“Tell me Midoriya, my boy,” the Principal begins a few seconds later, leaning back far into his chair. “How are you feeling?”

 

Tony’s eyes narrow in suspicion, trying to discern through the man’s words. Finding nothing to be too concerned about, he shrugs.

 

 “…Alright,” he finally answers back. “Wound’s doing better too.”

 

The Principal nods, stroking one of his long eyebrows and directing his gaze elsewhere. Tony squirms some more in his seat, having a good idea as to _where_ the Principal was looking at.

 

Eventually the Principal brings his gaze back up onto to Tony’s face. “That’s good to hear, my boy,” he says, then fishes a bright yellow folder out from somewhere underneath a tall pile of papers on his desk. “Though it pained me to know that such a thing had happened under my school, I am pleased to hear that you are recovering well.”

 

He slides down the folder, and Tony reaches out to take it, mentally reading the words written in bold on top. _‘Helpful Information for Children Going Through Bullying’_ it says, and Tony quickly skims through the contents inside with furrowed brows. Once he’s done, he looks back up to find the Principal waiting for his response.

 

Tony just stares back blankly at him.

 

“Before I tell you what exactly this folder contains,” the Principal begins slowly after Tony refuses to say anything, “I would like to know Midoriya, my boy, if you are still set on your decision regarding…Bakugou?”

 

The events that had happened a few days ago plays out in Tony’s head, and anger bleeds deep into his thoughts, churning the memories into something far more _distasteful_. It’s tempting, though, he realizes, to say no and watch Porcupine’s life get ruined from the consequences of his own actions, but somehow— _something_ , holds Tony back from saying it.

 

 _Izuku_. The little boy’s cry is still fresh inside his mind, and Tony can’t quite get rid of the images of a crying Izuku out from his memory bank. He bites down hard on the bottom of his lip in frustration, feeling the heavy weight of such a decision settling inside his stomach like lead.

 

There’s only two options he can take, which can lead to two wildly, different paths that could forever change both his and Porcupine’s lives for good.

 

He squares up his shoulders and meets the Principal’s blue eyes with an answer on his lips.

 

 

 

Tony tries to open the classroom door as quietly as he could, but heads still swivel towards him the moment he steps inside. He internally grimaces as everyone’s eyes lock onto him, but Tony keeps his head up and posture straight.

 

The teacher—a woman with voluminous clumps of blonde hair, turns to him; a notebook in one hand and a ruler in another. A row of simple math equations written in chalk decorated most of the blackboard behind her.

 

“Ah, Midoriya,” she blinks, “Good to see you’re finally back. We were just getting started on the wonderful intricacy of fractions.”

 

Tony offers her a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he says, “I had a pretty long talk with the Principal.”

 

Murmurs and whispers erupt around the room at his answer, and Tony stifles the sudden urge to roll his eyes. It’s going to take a _long_ time getting used to working with children again.

 

The teacher nods her head, then points to his desk with her ruler. “Well then, get back to your seat so I can continue my lesson.”

 

Tony takes a step forward then stops halfway. “Sorry, before I forget,” he starts just as the teacher raises up an eyebrow in annoyance at being delayed more with her teaching. “The Principal wants to see Porcu—I mean, _Bakugou_ , immediately.” He hurries back to his seat not a second after the words had left his mouth, and quietly ignores the murmurs and whispers that come back in full force all around his ears. He keeps his head down, taking deep breathes.

 

 _Obviously_ he could have worded it better—but…Tony takes the moment to glance up to find Porcupine’s head snapped straight upwards in attention. From his angle in the room, Tony catches a rare glimpse of fear flickering across the boy’s face before it hardens into a disinterested scowl.

 

The teacher waves her ruler about, trying in vain to quell the noises from too curious students. “Everybody please settle down!” She pleads before turning her attention onto Porcupine, “Well, you heard Midoriya? Get going then.”

 

The boy gets off from his seat and wordlessly exits out the door.

 

“Now then,” the teacher says, quieting down the murmurs that appear again as soon as Porcupine left the room, “let’s begin.”

 

 

 

It was near the end of the class when Porcupine finally arrives back; storming into the classroom with a face clouded in anger and clutching a bright yellow folder in one hand so tight, that it crumpled all around his fingers. The boy doesn’t say anything as he heads to his desk, instead sitting down and roughly shoving the folder deep into his bag and then resting clenched fists on top of his desk while looking as if lost in thought.

 

The rest of the students look on in silence, before getting back to their work. Tony simply spares the boy a quiet glance before turning back towards the window.

 

 _Not my problem_ , he thinks with a shrug.

 

Not at all.

 

 

 

The rest of the classes goes by in a blur; Tony barely paying any attention to the teachers before the sharp shrill of the school bell ringing alerts everyone that it’s time for lunch. Their main teacher strolls in again at that moment, hands clasped behind his back and dark eyes roaming all around the room.

 

The man doesn’t say anything, simply observing the students chatter about to another as they gather up their lunch boxes to head into the cafeteria. Tony can feel the man’s eyes boring straight at him but does little to show his discomfort as he grabs the familiar bento box the woman had made for him this morning.

 

He’s been looking forward to eating some delicious pork belly with fried rice and Tony’s not going to let this teacher ruin it.

 

“Mr. Midoriya,” he hears the man say, voice easily carrying across the room and effectively silencing out most of the other students’ conversations. Tony looks up to find his teacher’s staring directly at him, while the rest of his classmates’ gazes flicker between him and the teacher in fear.

 

“…Yes, Sensei?” Tony finally says after a tense moment has passed.

 

A thinly veiled grimace seems to appear over the man’s mouth. “There is something that I _must_ discuss with you before you head for lunch.” The teacher doesn’t elaborate on what it is before turning his sharp gaze onto the rest of the room. “Lunchtime had started over five minutes ago; shouldn’t you all have left about now?”

 

It almost sounds like there’s a promise of a punishment if nobody complies and the students must have understood that as they all start to hurry about grabbing their things and then running out the door in a flurry of feet and yelps. Porcupine lingers by the doorway, looking back with an unreadable expression while his two lackeys wait for him just outside the room.

 

The teacher turns to face the boy, letting out an exasperated sigh. “This has nothing to concern you about, Mr. Bakugou and I would suggest you head for lunch.” Porcupine’s expression remains unchanged, but his eyes dart over to Tony before looking away with a frown. The Porcupine boy finally leaves, and only Tony is left to face the teacher alone.

 

The man eyes him for a few more seconds before heading to a cabinet propped up against the side of the wall, opening and grabbing something that looks like a bundle of folders tied neatly together with a bow. The teacher then places it on top of his desk and beckons Tony to come forward.

 

Tony slowly makes his way over, quietly wondering what on earth it could be. He gets his answer when the teacher slides down the bundle towards him.

 

“These are all the homework and assignments from every class you had missed this week,” the teacher tells him, “Mr. Bakugou had already received his from a classmate yesterday, and since you are here today, I deemed it fit to hand yours over instead of the following week.”

 

Tony is tempted to ask why the teacher would till next week to hand him missing homework but holds his tongue and gives an appreciative nod towards the man. He also ignores the sickening churn that occur in the pits of his stomach at the realization that most likely none of his classmates weren’t as keen to befriend a quirkless student as oppose to a horrible _bully_ —the thought nearly making him lose his appetite.

 

 _Not anymore_ , Tony thinks, swallowing down a heavy growl with a clench of his teeth. _Not anymore_.

 

By the time he’s through, _everyone_ in the whole damn school will want to be buddy-buddy with him.

 

The teacher eyes him for a little while longer, before folding his hands up upon the table. “I was also told…,” the man says, a grimace starting to appear around his mouth, “that you are free to eat lunch here in the classroom so long as you properly clean up after yourself and not leave any mess.” The man then huffs out an annoyed sigh. “Try to think of it as _reparation_ for what had happened to you on Monday.”

 

Tony is _very_ tempted to sock his teacher right in the man’s annoyingly long, pointed nose.

 

Instead, he plasters on a strained smile over his face and nods again to the teacher. The man regards Tony once more; tiny, beady black eyes narrowing down into slits before eventually waving him away and Tony makes a move to turn on his heels when he stops, just suddenly remembering something.

 

“Actually, Sensei…” Tony says, and the teacher’s grimace becomes more visible once again as he speaks. “I was wondering if I can still clean up the classroom alone after classes are done?”

 

Apparently his teacher wasn’t expecting that at all, and the annoyance is quickly replaced by pure bewilderment. “There is no need for that, Mr. Midoriya,” the teacher blinks, “I have already assigned several students for the tasks.”

 

“I don’t mind actually,” Tony insists, then gives the man his best sickly-sweet smile that can butter up even the hardest of people. “I’d prefer to finish out what I was _justifiably_ given to for arriving so late to class on Monday.” The way the teacher flinches ever oh so slightly at the hidden meaning gives Tony that nice, little bit of satisfaction that makes the curve of his smile curl more around his face.

 

“I also think this would be a great way to prevent Porcu—I mean, Bakugou, from harassing me after school is over.”

 

That seems to be the imperative detail that his teacher needed to hear to finally consider his words and the man releases out another heavy sigh through his lips.

 

“Very well, Mr. Midoriya,” the teacher rubs a hand over his pointed nose, “since you seem quite…eager to do the task, then I grant you permission to clean up the classroom for an undetermined amount of time till we sort this whole mess out involving you and Mr. Bakugou.”

 

Before Tony could (smugly) say thank you, the man continues on speaking, casting an odd look over him with furrowed brows. “It’s a shame you’re quirkless,” he says, and Tony’s blood runs cold. “You have so much potential—you’re one of the top students in my class for goodness sake.” The man says like it’s a miracle in and out of itself, then shakes his head. “Such a shame,” and he turns to grab what looks to be a pile of tests already half drenched in red pen ink.

 

Tony stands still for a long, painful moment, hearing the man’s last words repeat over and over in his head. He balls one of his hands into a fist and inhales a deep breath through his nostrils. “It’s not a shame,” he says quietly, and the teacher snaps his head up to regard him with a raised brow in confusion.

 

“It’s not a shame,” Tony repeats, a little louder this time but his voice remains steady and low. “Just because I don’t have a quirk, doesn’t mean I’m any less of a person than anyone else here in this class. I am somebody,” Tony breathes out then turns sharply on his heel to head back to his desk.

 

“And I _will_ be somebody.”

 

 

 

By the time the final bell had rung to signal the end of the day, Tony couldn’t help but sigh out a small breath of relief.

 

He leans back in his seat, half mindlessly listening to his classmates chatter to one another about their plans for the weekend or arguing about some random, miscellaneous topic over his head while Tony shoves his notebooks neatly into his backpack. It’s ridiculous the amount of items schools expect their students to carry and he can’t help but worry about the future back pain he’s going to get from heaving such a heavy load over his (still growing) body.

 

Little by little, the students start to head out the door; some glancing curiously at him as they walked by his desk, perhaps wondering why he was still siting and not heading out the classroom like everyone else. The cat boy from earlier passes him by, stopping momentarily for a split second to face him, before looking away quickly.

 

“Seeyanextweek!” Tony hears the boy mumble rapidly in a low voice before walking away just as fast out the room. Tony blinks as he watches the cat boy leave and shakes his head. Still, something close to warmth blossoms around his chest from the rushed awkward goodbye.

 

Maybe he _does_ have a chance to make new friends for Izuku.

 

The good mood only last for a few minutes though, before his teacher quickly approaches him, carrying a sheet of paper in his hands which he shoves into Tony’s face.

 

“Since you were so _eager_ to clean up the classroom all by yourself,” the teacher says, and Tony can almost detect a hint of a sneer coating over the man’s words, “I have complied a list of tasks for you to complete before you leave this classroom today.”

 

Tony stares down at the paper, skimming through the list with eyes bulged out wide as he reads the sets of tasks assigned to him. It’s…quite a lot—more so than he had expected, and he wouldn’t put it past him that his teacher would add even _more_ stuff just for the hell of it.

 

The man is still eying him, waiting for a response and Tony offers a wobbly half-grin, half-grimace over his face. “Sure, Sensei,” he replies back easily enough, not letting the list get to him nor regretting his choice, “I can handle it.”

 

He gets a huff in response, the man coolly raising up an eyebrow at Tony in disinterest. “Oh, I have no doubt you would, Mr. Midoriya,” the man drawls with a smirk. “Though most students are able to complete this in under an hour. Although, for someone of your…” the way the teacher suddenly rakes his beady eyes up and down over Tony’s face, makes Tony instinctively clench a fist underneath his desk.

 

“… _Caliber_ ,” the teacher continues on, “might find some difficulties in accomplishing such a goal.”

 

The teacher then drops the sheet of paper onto Tony’s desk and turns to walk away. “Just make sure to lock up the cleaning supplies into the cabinet when you eventually finish,” the man calls out over his shoulder before grabbing his bag and ungraded papers and stepping out the doorway, leaving Tony alone in the big empty classroom with nothing but his thoughts and a sudden crippling sense of loneliness to keep him company.

 

His hands shake underneath the table—from rage or sadness Tony doesn’t know, nor particularly care. What he _does_ know, is that he has a ton of work to do and he begins rolling up his sleeves past his elbows and brushing back loose strands of curly hair away from his face.

 

Tony sighs, taking one last look at the list. He gets to work.

 

 

 

He finishes two and a half hours later.

 

Tony hates the fact that he knows this, only because he kept glancing up at the clock as he worked. His body aches from bending down so much, and the sharp smell of harsh chemicals and ammonia lingers tight around his clothes and skin. He sniffles, wrinkling his face in disgust, before heaving the last of the cleaning bottles back into the cabinet and slamming the door shut with a little bit more force than necessary.

 

He’s _tired_. And Tony wants nothing else than to take a long, hot bath, eat some delicious food and sleep.

 

Sighing, he heaves his ridiculously heavy backpack onto his back, and makes his way out the door, turning off the lights as he does so. The hallways are devoid of any students nor teachers, something Tony is grateful for as he heads down the corridor that will lead him straight to the entrance. The afternoon sun greets him as he steps out into the main entrance; diluting his view and the surrounding areas in a warm shade of light pink and fuzzy orange hues. Tony breathes in the crisp spring air, pulling more onto his uniform jacket to keep himself warm against a passing breeze.

 

Tony takes the moment to admire the scenery before heading down the steps and making his way out the front gate. He pauses for a second to take out his phone, wanting to text the woman that he’s coming home now when he hears footsteps quickly approaching him. He looks up, finding himself staring face to face with Porcupine.

 

The boy stares at him with an odd scowl etch around his mouth, clenching tightly onto the strap of his backpack slung over one of his shoulder; the other hand shoved deep into the pocket of his slacks.

 

Porcupine eyes him for a few seconds more, before growling out a, “Deku,” in a low voice.

 

And just like that, all of Tony’s patience for the world dissipates into the cool air, and he swiftly pockets his phone back into his jacket, promptly turn sharply on his heels and _walks_ the opposite direction.

 

He hears something akin to a sputter, before footsteps hurried after him. 

 

“ _Oi_ , Deku!” Porcupine boy calls out.

 

Tony walks faster.

 

Frustrated growls and the crackling of tiny explosions follow after him. “Oi, shitty, quirkless Deku!”

 

Tony stops suddenly, and whirls around to face the boy who skids to a stop a few inches away from him; looking far too pleased at getting him to slow down. Shooting the boy a venomous look, Tony jabs a finger up at the boy’s face.

 

“Don’t ever call me that,” Tony snarls out, “I’m not Deku.”

 

Porcupine boy blinks, creasing his brows downwards. “But you had always been shitty Deku,” the boy tells him as if it’s a fact of life.

 

“Well I’m not anymore!” Tony does little to quell the loud volume in his voice and he sees the Porcupine boy’s eyes widen slightly at that as the words reverberate over the conveniently empty street and the surrounding buildings.

 

Dark red eyes narrow into slits. “The heck is up with you?” the boy asks, suspicion lacing around his question as he tilts his head to regard Tony with a once over. “You’ve been acting fucking weird since _Monday_.”

 

If he wasn’t so tired, Tony would have laughed at that question. _What was wrong with him?_ A lot of things, considering he died in one life only to find himself waking up into another life where a lack of a special super- power—the very thing that had alienated most of his comrades back in his old world—somehow made him lesser than most people.

 

Instead, Tony shrugs. “Why are you following me?” he shoots back as his reply. “You know I could report you to the Principal.”

 

An extremely sour look appears over Porcupine’s face, and he looks away momentarily to glare at something on one of the buildings’ walls beside him.

 

“…Why?” the boy finally asks after several agonizing seconds passes between the two of them.

 

An exasperated groan escapes Tony’s lips, and he crosses his arms over his chest, shifting his feet a bit. “Why what?”

 

Porcupine’s head snaps towards him, directing the full blast of his glare straight onto Tony.

 

Tony simply blinks back.

 

Growling, the boy tugs a lock of his spiky, blonde hair in frustration. “You know what I mean! I’m talking about the decision that was shoved into the palms of your hands!” A frightful looking snarl twists over Porcupine’s mouth. “You had a chance to ruin me! A chance to get revenge for all the shitty things I had done to you and end my chances of becoming a pro-hero!”

 

Porcupine’s breathing begins to quicken, and he swallows heavily, looking lost for an alarmingly moment; dark red eyes blown wide in disbelief with tiny pricks of droplet edging the corners of his eyes.

 

“But…you didn’t,” he says in a low voice then like a switch, the hot-red anger appears again, contorting his expression into an explosive mixture of something volatile and dangerous.

 

“And I hate that!” he snarls, “I hate that you didn’t get me expel, and that you’re looking down at me for that. Looking at me with such pity because I got some ‘anger problems’ that I can’t control!” A series of tiny, loud explosions suddenly stream out from the boy’s hands. “You just think you’re better than me!”

 

Tony watches as the boy rant and huff and makes a scene, and then calmly asks, “Are you done?”

 

Before Porcupine could open his mouth—no doubt to yell again—Tony holds up a hand. “Because if you are, then you need more than just therapy. You need a life intervention and a _god damn miracle_.”

 

That stuns Porcupine enough to snap his jaw shut, clenching and unclenching his fists and blinking rapidly at him in silent shock. Tony uncrosses his arms and adjusts the heavy backpack over his shoulders.

 

“You need to fix this whole thing,” Tony says, gesturing vaguely with his hands at whatever emotions is eating Porcupine in the inside. “Because you’re going to be a terrible hero if you can’t even handle even the _simplest_ of things without blowing yourself up silly.”

 

Tony then takes several steps back and pivots his body away from the other boy to look up at the setting sun passing by one of the tall office buildings in the far-off distance.

 

“Oh, and you wanna know why I’m acting so differently than usual?” Tony asks quietly. That seems to snap Porcupine out of his stupor to regard him silently with a hint of curiosity seeping into those dark red eyes of his.

 

Smiling to himself, Tony shifts his gaze away from the beautiful sunset—one that reminded him too much of the finale battle against Thanos and taking his last breathe surrounded by crying friends—and onto the Porcupine boy.

 

“I grew up,” Tony murmurs, but his voice carries down the street and into passing winds. “I woke up one day, and realized I had to grow up, because I live in a world where nobody’s going to give me a passing glance thanks to some lack of genetic power I’m missing. And I have to work ten times harder than anybody else to get even a _scrap_ of respect.”

 

Sighing, Tony turns away. “I don’t get why you gotta be a bully. You got everything you need right in your hands and yet you scream and shout like some overgrown toddler demanding his bottle.” He shrugs and starts walking. “Maybe try growing up sometime?” Tony calls over his shoulder. “Might be helpful for the future.”

 

As he walks, he doesn’t hear any footsteps follow him.

 

 

 

While he’s glad that he got away from Porcupine and the boy’s …issues, for lack of a better term, Tony realizes half an hour later that he has no idea where he is, nor how to get back home.

 

He groans, slowing down his steps as he looks at the street signs hanging above his head. He can read them just fine, something that still excites him each time he does so, but it doesn’t little to alleviate his plight. And he can’t exactly ask somebody for directions because he has no clue what his address even is.

 

_I am utterly, hopelessly lost._

 

Tony tries to look for somewhere to seat, deciding it would be best to call the woman. Hopefully she’s done with work and not too stressed out and won’t question why he’s out and about in some random section of the city.

 

Finding nowhere to seat, Tony walks a few blocks, taking in the quaint tiny houses and hole in the wall restaurants that lined the sidewalks. He’s reminded of his trips to Japan back in his previous life; exploring the nightlife of Tokyo with Pepper and Rhodey by his side and enjoying what the country had to offer. He never really had the chance to explore more than the couple of blocks past his hotel, spending most of his time in spacious office rooms discussing with eager business partners potential new equipment to make for the Stark Industry.

 

It feels all too long ago. Almost as if the memories belong to somebody else now.

 

He shivers at the thought, and turns left, making his way down a tight alleyway before finding himself out into an open street. Tony blinks. And blinks again.

 

_Oh?_

 

Across the street looked to be some sort of beach—or at least, what was once a beach. Now, an alarming amount of metal debris and junk litter the area, covering most of the light brown sand and obscuring the view of the ocean. It looked like a bio-hazard just waiting to happen, and yet Tony felt himself drawn to it; his feet taking him over the street and by what he assumes to be the entrance.

 

Standing guard nearby was a tall white billboard; a quick scan told him that the beach name was _‘Dagobah Municipal Beach Park’_ and was open for a very long time until a tsunami destroyed parts of the area, rending it unsafe for visitors. Since then, people have been leaving junks and unwanted goods onto that specific area, slowly turning a once beautiful beach into a pitiful version of a junkyard.

 

Tony takes the stairs down to the ground, feeling the crunch of sand and metal bit underneath his shoes. It’s a lot bigger down here, the piles of junk stretching out for a mile and toppling precariously on top of another in piles almost as high as the palm trees that lined parts of the beach.

 

From his angle, he can see the crystal-clear ocean, and the final rays of the sunset sinking past the horizon before plunging the sky into a deep dark blue night, with a sprinkle of yellow stars for color.

 

Tony hums, brushing his hands against one of the junks he comes across in his path—a broken, misshapen scrap of what looked to be a washing machine burnt on one side. His mind starts whirling with potential, new ideas.

 

He grins. Maybe Izuku won’t have to wait too long to be a hero.

 

He gets to work.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMAKE
> 
> Bakugou at 3 a.m., awake and going through an existential crisis: _But what does he mean?_


End file.
